tl 


's  not  6cto  t|at  ^Utters;" 


OR 


THE  YOUNG  CALIFORNIA^. 


1  Y 

COUSIN  ALICE, 

%     » 

AUTHOR   OF    "  NO   SUCH  WORD   AS   FAIL ;  "    "  CONTENTMENT  BETTER 
THAN   WEALTH,"    ETC.    ETC. 


NEW-YORK: 
D.    APPLETON    &    COMPANY, 

346    &    348    BROADWAY. 
M.DOCO.LIV. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  pf'-Gonp-es^vn'thc  year  1853,  by 
.      p..APPI,:BTQN  A  ^OHPANY,     ,  -  , 

In  the  Clerkte  «ffije  J»f  ftie'^stricf  C6(nrttof  tlje  7J^ed  ^ates  for  the 
•*  "  *•  «oathem  Dis'tlict  of  Ne\V-'Y  ofk.  '    ' 


CONTENTS. 

Page. 

BAD  MANAGEMENT 9 

A  NEW  PLAN 22 

THE  MOTHER  AND  SON 36 

GOING  TO  CALIFORNIA   .......        47 

SETTING  SAIL 62 

THE  STORM 77 

THE  FIRST  LETTER 89 

SAN  FRANCISCO      . 104 

THE  PLAINS    "  .        .        .        .        .  .        .        .  118 

A  GLIMPSE  AT  THE  MINES 128 

THE  FATHER  AND  SON ]41 

"As  WE  FORGIVE  MEN  THEIR  TRESPASSES"  .        .        .156 

FIRE!  167 

NEW  PROSPECT .        .       180 

THANKSGIVING  DAY .196 


"ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS," 


CHAPTER  •!..«.  :     i;.i  :   A 

BAD    MANAGEMENT. 

"  AIN'T  the  stage  rather  late,   Squire  ?      I've 
been  waiting  round  a  considerable  while  now." 

The  "  Squire"  had  just  driven  up  to  the  Post 
Office,  which  was  at  one  end  of  the  village  tav 
ern,  and  a  man  hanging  to  a  post  that  upheld  the 
piazza  addressed  him. 

"  Perhaps  it  may  be,  I'm  rather  late  my 
self  ;  but  I  drove  the  long  road  past  Deacon 
Chase's.  Do  you  expect  any  body,  Gilman  ?  " 

"  Well — I  can't  say  I  do,  Squire  ;  but  I  like 
to  see  the  newspapers,  and  hear  what's  going  on 
in  the  world,  as  well  as  most  people,  specially 
since  the  Californy  gold's  turned  up.  I  wouldn't 
mind  finding  a  big  lump  or  so  myself." 
1* 


10        " ALL'S    NOT    GOLD    THAT    GLITTERS;" 

Grilman  chuckled  as  he  said  this,  and  set  a 
dilapidated  hat  a  little  more  over  his  eyes,  to 
shade  them  from  the  strong  light  of  the  declining 
sun.  No  wonder  they  needed  it ;  for  they  were 
weak  and  bleared,  and  told  the  same  tale  that 
could  be  read  in  every  line  of  a  once  expressive 
face.  -  -The,  tavern;  "bar  had  seen  as  much  of  him 
as  the  jiiazza.,  \4lfi  JkneV.'by  long  experience  the 

contained  in  the 
se* still,  of  many  a  cask 
of  New  England  rum,  dispensed  by  the  landlord 
of  "  Mooney's  Tavern." 

"  Fve  heard  your  wife's'  father  say  there  was 
gold  buried  on  every  farm  in  New  Hampshire, 
if  people  only  knew  where  to  find  it,"  the  Squire 
answered  pleasantly,  fastening  his  horse  to  the 
much  used  tying-up  post ;  "  there  ought  to  be 
on  what's  left  of  his,  by  this  time — there's  been 
enough  buried  there." 

The  man,  dull  as  his  once  clear  mind  had 
become,  seemed  to  understand  the  allusion  and 
the  reproof  it  conveyed,  for  his  face  flushed  even 
through  deep  unhealthy  redness,  as  he  walked 
off  to  a  knot  of  idlers  like  himself.  They  stood 
with  their  hands  in  their  pockets,  and  coats 


'•*  .  OR,    THE    YOUNG    CALIFORNIAN.  11 

buttoned  up  to  the  chin — discussing  the  won 
derful  news  that  was  then  the  only  topic  of 
conversation  through  the  whole  Atlantic  coast, 
and  even  far  in  the  backwoods,  where  much 
less  of  the  great  world's  doings  came — the  gold 
discovery  in  California. 

At  first  it  had  been  scarcely  credited — many 
who  were  afterwards  ready  to  stake  life  itself  in 
gaining  it,  declared  the  whole  thing  a  hoax,  and 
ridiculed  those  who  believed  in  it.  But  as  month 
after  month  brought  fresh  arrivals,  and  more 
marvellous  intelligence  from  the  new-found  El 
Dorado,  even  the  endless  discussion  of  politics 
was  given  up  for  this  fascinating  theme.  So  far, 
no  one  had  gone  from  Merrill's  Corner,  the  name 
of  this  retired  New  England  village  ;  but  many 
from  neighboring  towns  were  now  on  their  way  to 
"  make  their  fortunes,"  or  lose  their  lives  in  "the 
diggings." 

The  door  of  the  post  office  had  scarcely 
closed  upon  Squire  Merrill,  when  the  jingling 
of  sleigh-bells  and  the  quick  tread  of  horses  was 
heard  coming  up  the  hill.  It  was  the  stage- 
sleigh,  that  passed  through  from  Concord  every 
afternoon,  bringing  the  eagerly  expected  mail  and 


12      "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;" 


a  few  travellers,  farmer-looking  men,  who  were 
glad  to  spring  out,  and  stamp  their  benumbed 
feet,  the  moment  it  drew  up.  Qne  of  them 
threw  a  morning  paper  into  the  knot  of  ques 
tioners,  telling  them  rather  abruptly  to  "  look 
for  themselves,"  as  they  asked  the  invariable 
question,  "  what's  the  news  ?  "  and  Gilman,  who 
was  so  fortunate  as  to  seize  it,  was  instantly 
surrounded  as  he  unfolded  the  sheet. 

The  expected  arrival  was  announced,  in  huge 
letters,  at  the  top  of  the  paper  : — 

ONE   MONTH   LATER    FROM    CALIFORNIA  !  ! 

ARRIVAL  OF  THE  CRESCENT  CITY. 
HALF     A    MILLION     IN      GOLD      DUST!!! 

NEW   DISCOVERIES   MADE    DAILY. 
PROSPECTS    OF   THE   MINERS    CONSTANTLY   IMPROVING  ! 

And  with  a  voice  trembling  with  eagerness,  the 
wonderful  particulars  were  read  aloud,  inter 
rupted  only  by  exclamations  of  astonishment, 
more  expressive  than  elegant. 

Lumps  of  gold,  according  to  these  wonderful 
accounts,  were  to-  be  picked  up  for  the  stooping. 


OR,  THE    YOUNG    CALIFORNIAN.  13 

Some  men  had  made  a  fortune  in  a  single  month, 
from  steamer  to  steamer. 

Every  remarkable  piece  of  good  fortune  was 
exaggerated,  and  the  sufferings  and  privations, 
even  of  the  successful,  barely  touched  upon. 
There  was  scarcely  enough  shade  to  temper  the 
dazzling  light  of  this  most  brilliant  picture.  No 
wonder  that  it  had  all  the  magic  of  Aladdin's 
wonderful  lamp  to  these  men,  who  had  been  born 
on  the  hard  rocky  soil  of  the  Granite  State,  and, 
from  their  boyhood,  had  earned  their  bread  by 
the  ^eat  of  the  brow.  If  it  dazzled  specu- 
UtoriMn  the  city,  men  who  counted  their  gains 
by  thousands,  how  much  more  the  small  farmer, 
the  hard-working  mechanic,  of  the  villages,  whose 
utmost  industry  and  carefulness  scarcely  procured 
ordinary  comforts  for  their  families. 

Just  as  the  stage  was  ready  to  drive  off  again 
Squire  Merrill  came  out  on  the  piazza  with  sev 
eral  newspapers  in  their  inviting  brown  wrap 
pers,  a  new  magazine,  and  one  or  two  letters. 
There  was  of  course  a  little  bustle  as  the  pas 
sengers  took  their  seats,  and  the  driver  pulling 
on  his  buckskin  gloves,  came  from  the  comfort 
able  bar-room,  followed  by  the  tavern-keeper. 


14      "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;" 

"  More  snow,  Squire,  I  calculate/'  remarked 
the  sagacious  Mr.  Mooney,  nodding  towards  a 
huge  bank  of  dull-looking  clouds  in  the  west. 
"What's  your  hurry?" 

"All  the  more  hurry  if  you're  right,  Mr. 
Mooney, — I  think  you  are  ;  and  somehow  I 
never  find  too  much  time  for  any  thing.  Going 
right  by  your  house,  Gilman ;  shall  I  give  you  a 
lift  ?  " 

"Well  I  don't  care  if  you  do,"  answered 
Gilman,  to  the  surprise  of  his  fellows,  and  es 
pecially  the  hospitable  Mr.  Mooney.  He  had  not 
yet  taken  his  daily  afternoon  glass,  ^Rd  just 
before  one  of  them  had  signified  his  intention 
of  standing  treat  all  round,  to  celebrate  the  good 
news  from  California. 

The  Squire  seemed  pleased  at  the  ready  as 
sent,  for  it  was  equally  unexpected  to  him, 
knowing  Gilman's  bad  habits.  He  did  not  give 
him  time  to  withdraw  it,  for  the  instant  the  stage 
moved  off,  followed,  in  the  broad  track  it  made 
through  the  snow,  the  bells  of  both  vehicles 
jingling  cheerfully  in  the  frosty  air.  It  may 
seem  strange  to  those  unaccustomed  to  the  plain 
ways  of  the  country,  especially  at  the  North, 


OR,  THE' YOUNG   CALIFORNIAN.  15 

that  a  man  of  Squire  Merrill's  evident  respecta 
bility  should  so  willingly  make  a  companion  of 
a  tavern  lounger.  But,  in  the  first  place,  the 
genuine  politeness  of  village  life  would  make 
the  neighborly  offer  a  matter  of  every  day  oc 
currence,  and  besides  this,  the  Squire  had  known 
Gilman  in  far  different  circumstances.  They 
played  together  on  the  district  school-ground, 
as  boys,  and  their  prospects  in  life  had  been 
equally  fair.  Both  had  small,  well  cultivated 
farms,  the  Squire's  inherited  from  his  father,  and 
Gilman's  his  wife's  dowry,  for  he  married  the 
prettiest  girl  in  the  village.  Squire  Merrill, 
with  true  New  England  thrift,  had  gone  on,  add 
ing  "  field  to  field,"  until  he  was  now  considered 
the  richest  man  in  the  neighborhood,  and  cer 
tainly  the  most  respected.  His  old  school-fellow 
was  one  of  those  scheming,  visionary  men,  who 
are  sure  in  the  end  to  turn  out  badly.  He  was 
not  industrious  by  nature,  and  after  neglecting 
the  business  of  the  farm  all  the  spring,  he  was 
sure  to  see  some  wonderful  discovery  that  was  to 
fertilize  the  land  far  more  than  any  labor  of  his 
could  do,  and  give  him  double  crops  in  the  fall ; 
or  whole  fields  of  grain  would  lie  spoiling,  while 


16      "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS 


he  awaited  the  arrival  of  some  newly  invented 
reaping  machine,  that  was  to  save  time  and  work, 
but  which  scarcely  ever  answered  either  purpose. 
Gradually  his  barn  became  filled  with  this  use 
less  lumber,  on  which  he  had  spent  the  ready 
money  that  should  have  been  employed  in  pay 
ing  laborers — his  fences  were  out  of  repair,  his 
cattle  died  from  neglect. 

Mr.  Oilman,  like  many  others,  called  these 
losses  "bad  luck,"  and  parted  with  valuable  land 
to  make  them  up.  But  his  "  luck"  seemed  to 
get  worse  and  worse,  while  he  waited  for  a  favor 
able  turn,  especially  after  he  became  a  regulai 
visitor  at  Mooney's.  Of  late  he  had  barely  man 
aged  to  keep  his  family  together,  and  that  was 
more  owing  to  Mrs.  Oilman's  exertions  than  his 
own. 

The  light  sleigh  "  cutter,"  as  it  was  called 
glided  swiftly  over  the  snow,  past  gray  substan 
tial  stone  walls,  red  barns,  and  comfortable-look 
ing  farm  houses.  The  snow  was  in  a  solid,  com 
pact  mass,  filling  the  meadows  evenly,  anc 
making  this  ordinary  country  road  picturesque 
Sometimes  they  passed  through  a  close  pim 
wood,  with  tall  feathery  branches  sighing  fa 


OR,  THE    YOUNG    CALIFORNIAN.  17 

away  above  them,  and  then  coming  suddenly  in 
sight  of  some  brown  homestead,  where  the  ring 
ing  axe  at  the  door-yard,  the  creaking  of  the 
well-pole,  or  the  bark  of  a  house-dog  made  a 
more  cheerful  music.  There  are  many  such 
quiet  pictures  of  peace  and  contentment  on  the 
hill-sides  of  what  we  call  the  rugged  North, 
where  the  rest  of  the  long  still  winter  is  doubly 
welcome  after  the  hard  toil  of  more  fruitful  sea 
sons. 

Squire  Merrill  seemed  to  enjoy  it  all  as  he 
drove  along,  talking  cheerfully  to  his  silent  com 
panion.  He  pointed  out  the  few  improvements 
planned  or  going  on  in  the  neighborhood,  and 
talked  of  the  doings  of  the  last  "  town  meeting," 
the  new  minister's  ways,  and  then  of  Mrs.  Gil- 
man  and  the  children.  Suddenly  the  other 
broke  forth — 

"  I  say  it's  too  bad,  Squire,  and  I  can't  make 
it  out,  anyhow/' 

"  What's  too  bad,  Oilman  ?  " 

"  Well,  the  way  some  people  get  richer  and 
richer,  and  others  poorer  and  poorer  the  longer 
they  live.  Here  I've  hardly  got  a  coat  to  my 
back,  and  Abby  there — nothing  but  an  old  hood 


18      "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;" 

to  wear  to  meeting  and  you  drive  your  horse, 
and  your  wife's  got  her  fur  muff,  and  her  satin 
bonnet  !  That's  just  the  way,  and  it's  discour 
aging  enough,  I  tell  you." 

"  My  wife  was  brought  up  to  work  a  good 
deal  harder  than  yours,  Gilman,  and  we  didn't 
have  things  half  as  nice  as  you  when  we  were 
married." 

"I  know  it — hang  it  all — " 

"  Don't  swear — my  horse  isn't  used  to  it,  and 
might  shy—.  Well,  don't  you  think  there 
must  be  a  leak  somewhere  ?" 

"Leak — -just  so — nothing  but  leaks  the 
whole  time  !  Hain't  I  lost  crop  after  crop,  and 
yours  a  payin'  the  best  prices  ?  Wasn't  my 
orchard  all  killed  ? — there  ain't  ten  trees  but's 
cankered !  And  hundreds  of  dollars  I've  sunk 
in  them  confounded  —  beg  pardon,  Squire — 
them — them — outrageous  threshing  machines." 

The  Squire. chirruped  to  his  horse — "Steady, 
Bill — steady  !  Haven't  you»been  in  too  much 
of  a  hurry  to  get  rich,  Gilman,  and  so  been  dis 
contented  when  you  were  doing  well  ?  You 
always  seemed  to  ha^e  more  time  than  I.  I 
don't  believe  I  ever  spent  an  afternoon  at  Moo- 


OB,  THE   YOUNG   CALIFORNIAN.  19 

ney's  since  I  was  grown  up.  I've  worked  hard, 
and  so  has  my  wife."  "  Yours  has,  too,"  he 
added,  after  a  moment.  "I  don't  know  of  a 
more  hard-working  woman  than  Abby  Gilman." 

"  True  as  the  gospel,  Squire,  poor  soul  ! " 
and  the  fretful,  discontented  look  on  the  man's 
face  passed  away  for  a  moment.  A  recollection 
of  all  her  patient  labor  and  care  came  over  him, 
and  how  very  different  things  would  have  been  if 
he  had  followed  her  example,  and  listened  to 
her  entreaties. 

"  Why  don't  you  take  a  new  start  ?  "  said 
the  Squire,  encouragingly,  for  he  knew  that  if  any 
thing  could  rouse  his  old  companion  it  would  be 
the  love  for  his  wife.  "  You've  got  some  pretty 
good  land  left,  and  ought  to  be  able  to  work. 
We're  both  of  us  young  men  yet.  My  father 
made  every  cent  he  had  after  he  was  your  age  ; 
and  there's  Sam,  quite  a  big  boy,  he  ought  to  be 
considerable  help." 

"  Yes,  he's  as  good  a  boy  as  ever  lived,  I'll 
own  that — but  hard  work  don't  agree  with  me. 
It  never  did." 

Gilman  was  quite  right.  It  never  had  agreed 
with  his  indolent  disposition.  There  are  a 


20      "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;" 

great  many  children  as  well  as  men  who  make 
the  same  complaint. 

"  If  a  body  could  find  a  lump  of  gold,  now, 
Squire,  to  set  a  fellow  up  again." 

"  I  do  believe  you'd  think  it  was  too  much 
trouble  to  stoop  and  pick  it  up,"  Mr.  Merrill  said, 
good-naturedly.  He  saw  that  California  was 
still  uppermost  in  his  companion's  mind.  "And 
just  look  at  that  stone  wall,  and  your  barn — it 
wouldn't  be  very  hard  work  to  mend  either  of 
them,  and  I  don't  believe  a  stone  or  a  board  has 
been  touched  for  the  last  two  years,  except  what 
Sam  has  contrived  to  do." 

Gilman  looked  thoroughly  ashamed.  With 
the  evidence  of  neglect  staring  him  in  the  face, 
he  could  not  even  resent  it.  He  seemed  relieved 
when  the  Squire  drew  up  before  the  end  door,  to 
think  that  the  lecture  was  over.  There,  too, 
were  broken  fences,  dilapidated  windows,  every 
trace  of  neglect  and  decay.  The  place  once 
appropriated  to  the  wood-pile  was  empty,  and  in 
stead  of  the  daily  harvest  of  well-seasoned  chips, 
hickory  and  pine,  a  few  knotted  sticks  and  small 
branches  lay  near  the  block.  One  meagre-look 
ing  cow  stood  shivering  in  the  most  sheltered 


corner  of  the  barn-yard,  without  even  the  cackle 
of  a  hen  to  cheer  her  solitude.  The  upper  hinges 
of  the  great  barn  door  had  given  way,  but  there 
was  nothing  to  secure  it  by,  and  it  had  been  left 
so  since  the  cold  weather  first  came.  Every  thing 
looked  doubly  desolate  in  the  gray,  fading  light 
of  a  wintry  day,  and  the  blaze  that  streamed  up 
through  the  kitchen  window  was  too  fitful  to 
promise  a  cheerful  fireside.  Yet  fifteen  years 
ago,  this  very  homestead  had  been  known  for 
miles  around  for  its  comfort  and  plenty. 


i 


CHAPTEK  II. 

A  NEW  PLAN. 

•j 

"  WHY,  father  ! "  was  the  surprised  and  cheer 
ful  exclamation  of  Mrs.  Gilman,  as  her  husband 
entered  the  room.  It  was  an  unusually  early 
hour  for  him,  and  besides,  she  saw  his  step  was 
steady.  No  wonder  that  she  left  the  bread 
she  was  kneading,  and  came  forward,  her  hands 
still  covered  with  flour,  to  meet  him.  As  she 
stood  in  the  fire-light,  she  was  handsome  even 
yet,  though  her  face  looked  careworn,  and  her 
figure  was  bent,  as  if  she  had  been  much  older. 
Her  ninepenny  calico  dress  was  neatly  mac^,  and 
though  she  had  no  collar,  a  small  plait  silk 
handkerchief,  tied  closely  around  the  throat,  sup 
plied  the  place  of  one.  She  must  have  had  a 
cheerful,  sunny  temper  originally,  for  in  spite 
of  her  many  trials,  there  was  not  a  trace  of  de 
spondency  or  fretfulness  in  her  face  or  manner. 
"  Didn't  you  go  to  the  Corner  ?  Oh,  was 


OR,  THE    YOUNG   CALIFORNIAN.  23 

that  you  in  Squire  Merrill's  sleigh  ?  I  thought 
I  heard  it  stop.  Abby,  get  father  his  shoes — 
Hannah,  just  look  at  the  bannock,  it  must  be 
almost  done  by  this  time,  and  we  don't  have  fa 
ther  home  every  day.  Come,  children,  step 
round : "  and  Mrs.  Gilman  made  a  lively  motion 
to  quicken  the  tardy  Hannah,  who  was  straining 
her  eyes  out  over  a  book  by  the  very  faint  twi 
light  of  the  west  window. 

Mr.  Gilman  felt  that  he  did  not  deserve  this 
hearty  welcome,  in  a  home  to  which  he  had 
brought  only  sorrow  and  troubl^  There  were 
other  thoughts  that  kept  him  silent  too,  for  after 
explaining  that  Squire  Merrill  had  brought  him 
home,  he  sat  down  by  the  fireplace  and  watched 
his  wife  and  daughters  while  they  prepared  tea, 
as  if  it  had  been  a  holiday.  Cold  brown  bread, 
that  substantial  New  England  loaf,  and  the 
smoking  corn  meal  bannock,  were  all  that  they 
had  to  set  forth,  with  a  simple  garnishing  of  butter 
and  a  bowlder  of  apple-sauce,  made,  also,  by  the 
good  mother  in  the  autumn.  The  largest  and 
driest  sticks  of  wood  were  added  to  the  fire,  so, 
though  there  was  but  one  candle,  and  that  but  a 
"  dip,"  any  thing  in  the  room  was  plainly  visible. 


24      "  ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS  ; " 

The  Windsor  chairs  and  side-table  were  scoured 
clean  and  white  ;  through  the  open  door  of  the 
buttery  was  seen  a  dresser  in  perfect  order,  even 
to  the  row  of  .shining,  but,  alas,  too  often  empty 
milk-pans,  turned  up  under  the  lower  shelf,  and 
the  bread-bowl,  covered  by  a  clean  towel.  The 
looking-glass  between  the  windows,  surmounted 
by  curious  carving  and  gilding,  and  the  tall  pea 
cocks'  feathers,  the  thin  legs  of  the  table  at  which 
they  sat,  indeed  nearly  every  thing  in  the  room 
were  old  friends  of  Mrs.  Gilman's  childhood. 
The  house  and  fcrm  had  been  her  father's  home 
stead,  and  she  an  only  child.  She  often  said  she 
was  too  thankful  that  she  did  not  have  to  go 
off  among  strangers,  as  so  many  young  girls  did 
when  they  were  married,  for  she  knew  every  rock 
and  tree  on  the  farm.  Here  she  had  been  mar 
ried,  here  her  children  were  born,  and  here  she 
hoped  to  die. 

"  Sam  won't  be  home  in  time  to  milk,  I1 
don't  believe,"  observed  Abby,   the  oldest  girl, 
reaching  her  plate  for  a  second  supply  of  ban 
nock.     "  He's  always  out  of  the  way  when  he's 
wanted,  seems  to  me." 

"  I  don't  know,"  "  mother  "  answered  goodna- 


25 

turedly.  "  I  think  he's  worked  most  hard  enough 
all  day  to  earn  a  good  long  play-spell.  Sam's 
getting  very  handy,  father.  He  fixed  the  well- 
sweep  after  dinner  as  well  as  you  could  have 
done  it  yourself.  So  after  he'd  brought  in  the 
wood,  and  gone  to  the  store,  I  let  him  go  over  to 
Deacon  Chase's.  I  thought  you'd  have  no  objec 
tion." 

Mr.  Oilman  was  home  too  little  to  know 
much  about  his  children's  movements,  but  his 
wife  always  kept  up  a  show  of  authority  for  him, 
that  he  might  be  respected  at  home  at  least. 
Abby  had  found  time  for  another  theme. 
"  Mother,  I  should  think  you  might  let  Hannah 
and  me  have  some  new  hoods.  Julia  Chase  has 
got  an  elegant  one,  lined  with  pink  silk,  and  a 
new  merino  cloak.  And  there's  Anne  Merrill 
and  JarilpPrice.  I'm  sure  we're  as  good  as  any 
body ;  ain't  we,  father  ?  "  for  Abby,  being  her 
father's  favorite,  was  always  sure  of  a  hearing 
from  him. 

"  So  you  are,  Abby — every  bit,  and  you  shall 
ride  over  their  heads  yet.  I  tell  you  what,  mo 
ther  ;  I  can't  stand  this  much  longer ;  I  don't 
see  why  you  shouldn't  have  your  silks  and  satins 


26      "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;" 

as  well  as  Eliza  Merrill,  and  Hannah  go  to  board 
ing  school  if  she  wants  to,  when  she's  old  enough. 
I've  about  made  up  my  mind  to  go  to  California 
— there — and  there's  the  end  of  it  ! "  and  the 
excited  man  struck  his  knife  upon  the  table  so 
that  every  dish  rattled. 

Mrs.  Gilman  looked  up  with  an  anxious, 
questioning  face.  She  was  afraid  that  he  had 
been  drinking  after  all,  and  her  hopes  of  a  quiet 
evening,  "like  old  times,"  vanished.  Hannah 
ceased  to  wonder  absently  what  would  have  be 
came  of  the  Swiss  Family  Kobinson,  if  it  had  not 
been  for  their  mother's  wonderful  bag,  out  of 
which  every  thing  came  precisely  at  the  moment 
it  was  needed.  Abby  improved  the  opportunity 
to  help  herself  to  ag>  extra  quantity  of  "  apple 
butter,"  unobserved.  Abby  certainly  had  a 
strong  fancy  for  all  the  good  things  ofWe,  dain 
ties  and  new  hoods  included. 

"Why,  what  on  earth  has  put  that  into 
your  head,  father  ?  "  Mrs.  Gilman  said,  after  a 
moment,  still  addressing  him  by  the  familiar 
household  name,  at  first  so  endearing  and  after 
wards  habitual.  She  did  not  think  it  possible  he 
could  have  any  serious  thoughts  of  such  a  scheme, 


^?0/"> 

OR,  THE    YOUNG    CALIFOftNIAN.  '    27 

Her  husband's  plans  very  often  ended  in  "  talk 
ing  over,"  and  from  the  time  they  were  married 
some  project  occupied  him. 

"  It  ain't  any  new  plan  ;  I've  been  turning 
it  over  ever  since  the  last  steamer,  and  I  only 
waited  to  see  if  th^luck  would  hold  out.  Now 
the  news  is  come,  and  I'm  goin'.  That's  just 
all  there  is  about  it.  I  don't  see  why  I  should 
stay  here  and  be  a  poor  man  to  the  end  of  time, 
when  other  folks  has  only  got  to  turn  round  and 
make  a  fortune.  Why  there  was  one  man  took 
five  ounces  of  gold  out  of  one  hole,  in  among  the 
rocks  !  The  paper  says  so,  and  gold's  nineteen 
dollars  an  ounce.  Five  times  nineteen  is — " 

"  Ninety -five,"  responded  Abby,  quickly. 
She  had  been  a  diligent  student  of  Smith's 
Arithmetic,  at  the  district  school  all  winter,  and 
when  her  father  was  speaking  considered  she  had 
a  perfect  right  to  join  in  the  conversation. 

"Yes — ninety-five  dollars  in  ten  minutes, 
just  as  fast  as  he  could  scoop  it  out,  and  I  might 
work  six  months  for  it  here  on  this  plaguy  farm. 
Why,  it  tells  about  lumps  of  real  solid  gold,  as 
big  as  my  fist !  and  one  man's  just  as  good  as 


28      " ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;" 

another  there.  None  of  your  Deacons  and 
Squires,  settin'  themselves  up  above  other  folks/' 

Poor  Mr.  Gilnian,  like  many  other  persons 
whose  own  faults  have  degraded  them,  had  a 
bitter  envy  towards  those  who  continued  to  do 
well.  It  must  certainly  be  01  the  principle  that 
"misery  loves  company  ;"  there  is  no  better 
way  to  'account  for  this  selfish  desire  to  see  others 
in  trouble,  when  we  are  suffering  from  our  own 
rashness  or  folly,  "  selfish,"  to  say  the  least. 

"  Is  any  body  going  from  the  Corner  ?"  Mrs. 
Gilman  had  laid  down  her  knife  and  fork,  and 
pushed  back  her  plate.  She  felt  u  sick,  choking 
sensation,  that  would  not  let  her  eat.  She  saw 
her  husband  was  in  his  sober  senses,  and  more 
determined  than  he  had  been  on  any  subject  for 
a  long  time. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  doggedly,  as  if  he  did 
not  wish  to  be  questioned  further. 

"  Who  ?  "  persisted  his  wife,  with  an  anx 
ious  foreboding  of  the  name  she  would  hear. 

"  Well,  if  you  must  know,  it's  Bill  Colcord, 
and  we've  agreed  to  go  into  partnership.  I  know 
you  don't  like  him,  but  it's  just  like  one  of  your 


29 


woman's  notions.  Bill's  a  first-rate  fellow,  and 
gives  as  long  as  he's  got  a  cent." 

Mrs.  Grilman  did  not  remonstrate.  She  knew 
it  was  of  rib  use.  The  time  had  been  when  her 
husband  would  scarcely  have  spoken  to  this  man, 
who  had  always  been  idle  and  dissolute.  How 
he  lived  no  one  exactly  knew.  He  was  very 
clever  at  making  a  bargain,  was  always  betting, 
and,  it  was  said,  could  overreach  any  body  he  dealt 
with.  It  was  only  of  late  years  that  he  had 
become  Mr.  Gilman's  companion.  His  wife  had 
warned  and  entreated  him  in  vain.  Mr.  Gilman 
would  sometimes  promise  to  give  him  up,  but 
the  man  always  had  a  hold  on  him,  treating  at 
Mooney's,  or  lending  him  small  sums  of  money. 

In  spite  of  herself  Mrs.  Oilman  drew  a 
heavy  sigh  when  she  heard  him  mentioned ; 
but  she  saw  Hannah  looking  up  earnestly,  and 
Abby  listening,  and  remembering  every  word. 

"  You  can  clear  away  the  table,  girls — come, 
be  spry," — she  said,  rising  with  a  great  air  of 
alacrity  herself;  but  she  had  a  heavy  heart,  as 
she  took  up  her  knitting  from  the  side-table, 
and  sat  down  in  her  low  arm-chair  in  the  corner 
of  the  fire-place.  Mr.  Gilman  followed  and 


30      "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS, " 

squared  himself  on  the  other  side,  leaning  his 
elbows  on  his  knees,  with  a  show  of  obstinate 
determination,  as  he  looked  from  his  wife  to  the 
fire. 

"Mustn't  we  wait  for  Sam?" asked.  Hannah, 
who  had  already  seized  on  volume  second  of 
her  beloved  history.  She  had  a  natural  disin 
clination  to  household  tasks,  an  indolence  inher 
ited  from  her  father,  and  but  partly  excused  to 
the  notable  Mrs.  Gilman,  by  the  love  of  reading, 
which  kept  her  out  of  mischief. 

"No;  Sam  knows  when  we  have  tea,  and 
the  table  can't  be  kept  waiting  for  him." 

"  He  don't  deserve  any,  I'm  sure,"  Abby  was 
quite  ready  to  add.  "  I  hate  to  strain  the  milk 
after  dark,  and  he  knows  it,  and  stays  away 
just  to  plague  me.  Come,  Hannah,  take  the 
bread  into  the  buttery,  while  I  pile  up  the 
things.  You  know  it's  your  week  for  putting 
away,  and  you  try  to  get  things  off  on  other 
people.  Mother — mustn't  Hannah  come  and 
help  me  ?" 

The  book  was  reluctantly  closed,  and  Han 
nah's  tardy  step  made  a  slow  accompaniment 
to  her  sister's  bustling  movements.  There  was 


OB,  THE    YOUNG   CALIFORNIA^.  31 

much  more  clatter  than  was  necessary  in  piling 
up  the  four  cups  and  saucers,  emptying  the  tea 
tray,  folding  the  cloth,  and  setting  back  the 
table.  It  was  quite  a  picture  to  see  the  handy 
little  housewife,  tucking  back  her  dress  and  apron, 
as  ske  dexterously  carried  the  still  smoking  tea 
kettle  into  the  buttery,  and  filled  a  large  milk 
pan  with  clean  hot  water,  while  Hannah  ex 
pended  all  her  energies  in  reaching  down  a  towel 
and  preparing  to  dry  the  few  dishes. 

The  buttery,  a  long  wide  closet  at  one  end 
of  the  kitchen,  added  very  much  to  the  neat 
ness  of  the  family  sitting-room.  It  was  Abby's 
especial  pride  to  keep  the  sink,  the  numerous 
pails  and  buckets,  in  order,  and  the  one  low  win 
dow  as  clear  as  hands  could  make  it.  Hannah, 
though  a  year  the  eldest,  hated  the  buttery,  and 
always  made  her  escape  as  soon  as  possible.  To 
use  her  own  favorite  word' — she  "  hated  "  wash 
ing  dishes,  and  dusting,  and  peeling  potatoes,  in 
fact,  every  thing  like  work.  She  liked  reading 
and  walking  in  the  woods,  especially  in  spring 
time,  making  wreaths  of  wild  flowers,  and  fanciful 
cups  and  baskets  from  the  twigs  and  leaves 
Hannah's  imagination  was  already  captured  by 


32 


these  wonderful  golden  visions.  Plenty  of  money, 
stood  for  plenty  of  time  to  do  just  as  she 
pleased.  Her  mother  could  not  be  always  tell 
ing  her,  "you  must  learn  to  be  industrious,  for 
you  are  a  poor  man's  child,  and  have  got  to 
make  your  own  way  in  the  world." 

"  I  hope  father  will  go  to  California,"  was 
the  first  symptom  of  consciousness  she  showed, 
while  Abby  splashed  away  in  the  water,  regard 
less  of  scalded  hands  and  mottled  elbows. 

"  My  goodness,  Hannah  !  do  see  what  you 
are  about — letting  the  end  of  the  towel  go  right 
into  the  dishwater.  I'm  sure  I  don't  want  my 
father  to  go  clear  off  there  and  die,  if  you  do." 

"  People  don't  always  die — there's  Eobinson 
Crusoe,  taken  home  after  all  he  went  through, 
and  I'm  sure  the  Swiss  Family  will.  I  don't 
like  to  look  at  the  last  chapter  ever,  but  of 
course  they  will  be.  I  heard  father  tell  mother, 
when  I  was  folding  up  the  table-cloth,  that  he 
wouldn't  be  gone  over  a  year  and  a  half,  and 
was  sure  to  make  ten  or  twenty  thousand  dol 
lars." 

"  Twenty-thousand-dollars  !      Why,    Han 
nah,  that's  more  than  Squire  Merrill's  worth'" 


OR,  THE    YOUNG    CALIFORNIA^.  33 

Why,  how  rich  we'd  be  !  perhaps  we'd  have  a 
new  house/' 

"  And  a  big  book-case  in  the  parlor,  full  of 
— every  thing  !  "  added  Hannah,  intent  only  on 
her  personal  accommodation. 

"  And  handsome  carpets  all  over  it,  and  a 
mahogany  sofa,  and  a  big  looking-glass.  Just 
'spose  it  once." 

"  I  hope  we'll  have  a  garden,  with  an  ele 
gant  arbor,  as  shady  as  can  be." 

"  With  grapes,  and  lots  of  fruit-trees,  and 
plenty  of  dahlias  !  Well,  it  would  be  nice,"  and 
Abby  suffered  the  knife  handles  to  slip  into  the 
hot  water,  a  piece  of  carelessness  expressly  for 
bidden  by  the  careful  Mrs.  Gilman,  while  she 
rested  her  chubby  hands  thoughtfully  on  the  rim 
of  the  milk  pan. 

"  But  come,  the  water's  all  getting  cold,  and 
there's  Sam  round  by  the  barn  whistling.  There's 
the  knives." 

"  It's  always  cold  here,"  shivered  Hannah, 
fretfully;  "  I  should  think  mother  might  let  us 
wash  dishes  on  the  table  in  the  kitchen.  I'm 
most  frozen  here  every  night.  It  takes  twice  as 
long—" 


34     "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;" 

"  There's  Sam  slamming  the  door  as  usual," 
interrupted  Abby,  "tracking  up  the  whole  floor, 
of  course." 

And  there  stood  Sam,  as  she  looked  over  her 
shoulder  into  the  centre  room,  his  face  glowing 
with  the  quick  walk,  a  woollen  comforter  knot 
ted  about  his  throat,  and  the  torn  vizor  of  a  seal 
skin  cap  hanging  over  his  eyes.  His  old  round 
about,  buttoned  up  close  to  the  chin,was  powdered 
with  feathery  flakes  of  snow,  and  his  gray  sati 
net  pantaloons,  with  "eyes,"  as  he  called  the 
patches  on  the  knees,  scarcely  reached  to  his 
boots.  But  for  all  this,  he  was  a  fine,  hardy-look 
ing  boy,  fall  of  life,  and  health,  and  spirits,  and 
would  have  demonstrated  the  latter  by  an  im 
promptu  war  dance,  on  the  kitchen  floor,  if  he 
had  not  caught  his  mother's  look  of  warning. 

"  Been  to  supper  at  the  deacon's — give  us 
the  milk  pail,  Chunk,"  he  called  out  very  uncer 
emoniously  in  answer  to  Abby's  threatened  lec 
ture.  "  I  know  you  like  to  strain  the  milk  after 
dark,  so  you  can  have  me  to  hold  the  light  for 
you.  Don't  she,  Nan? — hurry  up  there,"  and 
snatching  the  pail,  he  was  gone  again  in  a  mo 
ment,  out  into  the  darkness  and  increasing  storm, 


OR,  THE    YOUNG   CALIFORNIAN.  35 

caring  neither  for  the  loneliness  nor  the  expo 
sure. 

Mrs.  Gilman's  face  lighted  as  she  looked  af 
ter  him.  She  had  been  listening  to  her  husband's 
plans,  clearer,  and  more  capable  of  being  carried 
out,  than  most  of  them,  showing  that  some  one 
else  had  been  assisting  to  make  them.  Mr.  Gil- 
man  had  persuaded  himself,  with  this  adviser's 
assistance,  that  he  would  be  perfectly  right  in 
selling  the  remnant  of  the  farm,  with  the  house, 
to  pay  for  his  passage  and  outfit  to  California. 
"  As  he  only  went  to  make  money  for  his  wife 
and  children,  they  ought  not  to  complain,"  he 
reasoned,  "  and  he  would  return  so  soon,  to  give 
them  all  that  heart  could  wish.  Meantime,"  lie 
said  he  would  leave  them  something,  and  by  time 
winter  came  he  would  send  money  from  Califor 
nia.  Mrs.  G-ilman  well  knew  that  she  must  be 
the  entire  dependence  of  her  family,  however 
fair  all  might  seem  in  prospect. 


36      "  ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS  ; 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE   MOTHER   AND    SON. 

BUT  this  was  not  the  thought  that  weighed 
heaviest,  when  all  but  Mrs.  Gilman  had  forgotten 
their  plans  and  their  pleasures  in  sleep. 

As  she  sat  alone  by  the  broad  flagging  of  the 
hearth,  she  could  hear  the  heavy  breathing  of 
her  husband  in  the  next  room,  the  ceaseless  tick 
ing  of  the  clock,  the  purr  of  the  cat,  in  its  warm 
corner  by  the  ashes.  Overhead  were  her  sleep 
ing  children,  she  alone,  watchful  and  anxious. 
Slowly  the  old  clock  marked  the  passing  hour, 
the  brands  mouldered  with  a  dim  redness,  then 
broke,  and  fell  with  a  shower  of  sparks  upon  the 
hearth.  The  rising  wind  rattled  the  loose  win 
dow  frames,  the  cold  snow  drifted  upon  the  sill, 
white  and  chilling.  She  had  kept  many  a  mid 
night  watch  since  she  had  been  a  wife,  but  this 
was  the  dreariest  of  all.  She  did  not  bury  her 


37 

face  in  her  hands,  and  sob — her  habitual  in 
dustry  had  retained  the  coarse  stocking,  and 
her  hands  moved  rapidly  to  the  monotonous  click 
of  the  needles,  while  hot  tears  gathered  slowly 
in  her  eyes,  and  plashed  down  upon  them.  She 
did  not  wipe  them  away,- — she  did  not  know  they 
were  there.  She  was  thinking  over  all  the  long 
time  since  her  marriage  ;  how  very  happy  she 
had  been  .at  first,  with  her  dear  baby  in  the  cra 
dle,  and  her  young  husband,  so  fond  of  her  and 
his  first  born,  and  the  gradual  and  entire  change 
that  had  since  come  over  him  and  over  their  home. 
She  had  never  ceased  to  hope  through  it  all, 
that  the  time  would  come  when  he  should  be 
given  back  to  her  "  in  his  right  mind."  How 
earnestly  she  had  prayed  for  it,  sitting  there, 
watching  patiently  night  after  night,  trying  tc 
keep  cheerful  through  all  things  ;  to  make  hifc 
home  pleasant  for  him,  when  he  least  deserved 
it.  And  this  was  the  end.  She  knew  he  was 
going,  she  felt  it  from  that  first  abrupt  announce 
ment,  and  with  the  perils  of  the  sea,  and  that 
new  country,  he  might  not  return.  She  must 
go  out  from  that  old  homestead,  must  see  even 
the  very  burial-place  owned  by  others,  and  he 


38      "  ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS  ;  " 

who  had  promised  to  love  and  protect  her  was 
the  cause  of  all.  It  was  hard  to  put  down  the 
bitter,  reproachful  feeling  that  had  tempted  her 
before,  and  to  think  of  him  with  love,  of  God's 
will,  with  submission  and  hope.  Then  came  a 
picture  of  her  husband,  suffering,  sick,  dying  on 
that  long  journey,  for  she  knew  how  his  health 
had  been  weakened,  and  how  little  fitted  he  was 
to  bear  exposure.  This  was  terrible.  .  If  some 
friend,  some  one  she  could  trust,  was  going  with 
him,  instead  of  that  bad  man,  she  could  bear  it 
better. 

A  noise  that  she  would  not  have  noticed  in 
the  stir  of  daylight,  made  her  look  up.  It  was 
only  her  boy's  cap,  which  he  had  hung  carelessly 
behind  the  door,  falling  from  the  nail.  "  How 
strong  and  well  he  is,"  thought  the  lonely  woman 
— "  why  could  not  he  go,  and  take  care  of  his 
father  ?" 

When  she  first  tried  to  reason  with  herself 
about  the  future,  he  had  seemed  her  only  com 
fort  and  stay.  Must  she  give  him  up  too  ? 

Mrs.  Gilman  did  not  often  act  from  impulse, 
but  she  had  become  restless,  and  eager,  thinking 
these  things  over.  She  took  the  candle,  already 


39 


burned  to  the  very  socket,  hurried  up  the  narrow 
winding  stairs  leading  from  the  room  in  which 
she  sat,  to  the  "  garret  chamber/'  chosen 
by  her  boy  as  his  winter  sleeping  room,  for 
the  greater  convenience  of  disposing  of  and 
watching  over  his  -hoard  of  treasures.  They 
were  few  enough,  but  invaluable  to  him.  The 
ears  of  corn  he  had  saved  for  parching,  hung 
by  their  braided  husks,  the  soft  pine  blocks,  pre 
pared  for  whittling, — his  skates,  his  new  sled,  not 
yet  trusted  to  the  doorless  barn,  the  pile  of  hick 
ory  nuts  in  the  corner,  were  nearly  all  that  he 
owned  ;  but  no  money  could  have  purchased 
him  more  valued  possessions. 

The  boy  was  sleeping  soundly  after  the  day's 
hard  work  and  exercise.  His  mother  put  down 
the  light  upon  the  chest  that  served  him  for  a 
table,  and  sat  down  upon  the  bed  beside  him. 
He  looked  very  beautiful  to  her,  his  long  brown 
hair  thrown  back  over  the  pillow,  and  his  face 
flushed  with  a  red  glow  of  health.  One  arm  was 
thrown  above  his  head  in  a  careless,  graceful  way, 
the  brown  hand  bent,  as  if  reaching  to  grasp  a 
branch  above  him.  Should  she,  who  had  held 
idm  in  her  arms,  with  the  first  prayerful  thrill 


40      "  ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS  ;" 

of  a  mother's  love,  innocent  and  pure,  send  him 
forth  to  contact  with  the  world  unshielded  !  To 
see  vice,  and  perhaps  crime  in  every  form — to  be 
the  companion  of  those  long  familiar  with  it ! 
But,  surely,  it  was  a  sacred  mission  to  watch  over 
and  care  for  an  erring  parent,  perhaps  to  save 
him  from  still  greater  degradation.  Would  not 
God  reward  her  for  this  loving  sacrifice,  by  keep 
ing  him  in  the  charge  of  all  good  angels  ! 

Her  strong  faith  trusted  in  this,  as  she  knelt 
down,  still  watching  his  heaving  chest,  and  laid 
her  hand  lightly  in  unconscious  blessing  upon  his 
broad  forehead.  It  may  have  been  that  bless 
ing  which  bore  him  through  strange  trials  and 
temptations.  We  know  that  those  who  ask  "  in 
faith,"  nothing  wavering,  have  their  reward ; 
and  what  can  exceed  the  yearning  faithfulness 
of  a  mother's  love  ? 

"  No,  nothing  is  the  matter,  my  son,"  Mrs. 
Oilman  answered  to  the  boy's  start  of  surprise, 
and  half  frightened,  half  sleepy  question.  "  I 
did  not  mean  to  wake  you  up,  Sam,  I  came  to 
see  if  you  were  asleep  yet  and  quite  comfortable. 
Are  you  sure  you  have  clothes  enough  ?  It's 
going  to  be  a  very  cold  night." 


41 


"  Plenty,  mother, — it's  just  like  you  to  be 
worried.  I  thought  ft  must  be  morning  first, 
or  father  was  sick,  or  something.  Good  night/' 
and  he  turned  still  drowsily  to  his  pillow. 

"  Sam,  did  you  know  your  father  had  con 
cluded  to  go  to  California  ?  " 

"  Goodness,  mother  !  "  and  all  sleepiness 
was  gone  in  an  instant,  the  boy  sat  up  in  bed, 
and  looked  at  his  mother  eagerly. 

"Yes,  he  has  decided  to  go,  and  I've  been  think 
ing  if  it  wouldn't  be  better  for  you  to  go  along." 

"Me?" 

"  I  guess  it's  best,  Sam.  I  don't  see  how 
I  can  spare  you  very  well :  but  your  father  will 
need  you  more  than  we  shall ;  we  shall  make  out 
to  get  along  somehow.  You  will  be  coming  home 
some  day  with  a  fortune,  like  the  young  princes 
in  the  story  books." 

Mrs.  Gilman  tried  to  speak  playfully,  but  it 
was  hard  work  to  keep  down  the  sobs. 

"  It  isn't  like  you,  mother,  to  want  me  to 
leave  you  and  the  girls,  just  to  make  money.  I've 
heard  you  say  too  many  times,  that  you  would 
be  contented  to  live  any  way,  so  long  as  we  could 
all  be  together,  and  work  for  each  other.  What 
put  it  into  your  mind  ?" 


42      "  ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS  ;" 

There  was  an  earnest  directness  in  the  boy's 
manner  Mrs.  Grilman  could  not  evade.  She  had 
never  before  alluded  to  her  husband's  weakness 
to  one  of  his  children.  It  was  hard  now;  but  it 
was  right  Sam  should  know  all. 

"  You  can  remember,  Sam,  when  we  were  all 
a  great  deal  happier  ;  before  father  took  to  go 
ing  to  the  corner  every  day.  You  know  how 
he  comes  home  night  after  night,  and  how  bad 
company  has  changed  him.  Bill  Colcord  has 
followed  him  every  where,  and  has  persuaded  him 
into  this.  If  father  has  you  with  him,  he'll  think 
of  us  oftener,  and  perhaps  it  will  keep  him  from 
doing  a  great  many  things  Colcord  might  lead 
him  into.  You  are  old  enough  to  know  what's 
right  and  what's  wrong." 

"I  ought  to,  mother,  when  I've  had  you  to 
tell  me  ever  since  I  was  a  baby." 

"God  knows  I've  tried  to  do  my  duty,"  Mrs. 
Gilman  said,  clasping  her  hands  together,  "  I've 
tried,  Sam,  and  I'm  trying  now,  though  it's  hard 
to  see  whether  it's  right  to  send  you  away  with 
that  bad  man.  But  it  must  be  !  Look  out  for 
your  father  just  as  I  would.  Keep  right  yourself, 
and  then  he  will  listen  to  you.  But  it's  all  in 


OR,   THE    YOUNG    CALIFORNIAN.  43 

your  Bible  ;  and  you  won't  forget  to  read  it,  will 
you  ?  You  say  your  prayers,  don't  you,  like  a 
good  boy  ?  " 

"  Sometimes  I  forget  till  I  am  almost  asleep," 
the  boy  confessed  honestly.  "  But  I  don't  sleep 
half  so  well,  I  think,  or  wake  up  so  good  natured 
at  any  rate.  When  is  father  going — does  he 
know  you  want  me  to  ?  " 

"  Not  yet,  but  we  must  not  mind  that — Col- 
cord  won't  want  you.  Something  tells  me  you 
ought  to.  Sam,  I  only  want  you  to  make  me 
one  promise.  Never  to  touch  a  drop  of  any  thing 
that  could  hurt  you — you  know  what  I  mean, 
any  spirit,  and  keep  father  from  it  as  much  as 
you  can.  You  will,  won't  you  ?" 

"  I  never  tasted  spirit  yet,  mother,  and  1 
never  will,  so  long  as  I  can  remember  to-night. 
I'll  swear  it  on  the  Bible  if  you  want  me  to." 

"No,  I  don't  ask  that,  only  your  promise. 
If  you  wouldn't  keep  a  solemn  promise,  you 
wouldn't  keep  an  oath.  And  never  let  yourself 
get  lazy.  People  sit  'round  and  do  nothing,  and 
so  they  are  tempted  to  drink  just  to  pass  away 
the  time,  and  most  men  who  will  drink,  will 
swear  or  do  any  thing  else.  I  don't  say  all 


44      "  ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS  ;" 

will ;"  and  a  painful  flush  rose  to  the  poor  wo 
man's  forehead  as  she  thought  of  her  misguided 
husband,  "  but  it  leads  into  mischief  they  never 
would  think  of  or  consent  to  in  their  sober  senses. 
Don't  be  afraid  of  hard  work.  I  never  was,  and 
my  father  was  called  well  off.  If  one  kind  of 
work  is  not  handy  do  something  else,  it  keeps 
away  bad  thoughts,  and  hard  thoughts  too,  some 
times." 

It  seemed  that  Mrs.  Gilman  could  not  bear 
to  leave  her  son.  It  was  the  first  time  she  had 
ever  opened  her  heart  to  him  at  all.  He  was  too 
young  to  understand  half  its  silent  loneliness 
and  care  ;  but  he  loved  her  better  than  anybody 
in  the  world,  and  was  ready  to  do  any  thing  or 
promise  any  thing  that  would  make  her  look 
happier.  He  did  not  get  asleep  for  a  long  time 
after  she  went  away,  though  the  candle  had 
burnt  out,  and  the  snow  sifting  against  the  win 
dow  made  it  very  dark.  He  turned  over  the 
pillow,  and  drew  up  the  quilt,  but  it  was  no  use. 
To  any  boy  of  his  age,  the  novelty  of  going  to 
sea  would  have  been  exciting.  And  California  ! 
— he  knew,  as  much  about  it  as  any  of  his  elders 
and  betters.  The  boys  had  been  talking  about 


OR,    THE    YOUNG    CALIFORNIA**.  45 

it  once,  as  they  helped  Ben  Chase  shell  a  double 
quantity  of  corn,  so  that  he  could  go  skating 
with  them  after  school,  Monday  ;  and  boasting, 
as  boys  "will,  of  what  they  would  do,  if  they  could 
only  get  there  !  How  astonished  they  would  be 
to  find  he  was  going  !  He  could  not  help  feel 
ing  very,  important,  and  suddenly  improved  al 
most  to  man's  estate,  even  in  his  own  eyes. 
Then  his  imagination  rambled  on  to  a  very  dis 
tant  and  undefined  future.  How  he  would  come 
home  with  piles  and  piles  of  gold — great  bags 
full,  and  give  five  to  his  mother,  and  one  to  each 
of  the  girls,  and  buy  back  the  farm.  Whether 
he  should  put  the  old  house  in  splendid  order,  or 
build  a  new  one,  he  could  not  quite  make  up  his 
mind.  But  there  would  be  time  enough  for  that. 
One  thing  was  certain.  His  mother  should  have 
every  thing  she  wanted,  and  never  do  another 
bit  of  work,  if  she  didn't  choose  to.  His  mother's 
troubled  face  brought  him  back  very  suddenly 
to  the  present.  He  understood  better  than  ever 
he  did  before,  how  many  things  she  must  have 
to  worry  her,  especially  about  his  father.  Efe 
thought  about  this  a  long  time,  and  made  new 
resolution  to  keep  his  promise,  and  be  very  good 


46      "  ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS  ;*' 

and  industrious.  His  good  resolves  were  a  little 
confused  and  misty  at  the  last,  mixed  with  wan 
dering  thoughts  about  the  ship,  for  he  had  never 
seen  one,  and  Ben  Chase's  new  skates,  which 
had  been  the  object  of  his  highest  ambition  three 
hours  before.  Then  he  slept  as  soundly  as  if  the 
whole  plan  of  his  life  had  not  been  changed  that 
eventful  day  ;  unconscious  of  the  hardships,  the 
trials,  and  the  temptations  that  were  to  mark 
every  step  of  his  future  path  through  boyhood. 

So  it  happened  that  our  young  hero,  as  his 
mother  had  said,  like  a  prince  in  some  marvellous 
fairy  tale,  "  went  out  to  seek  his  fortune.  "  He 
had  no  "  shoes  of  swiftness/'  or  "  invisible  cap," 
nor  yet  the  "  purse  of  Fortunatus,"  that  he  ex 
pected  to  find.  But  he  carried  a  light  heart, 
willing  hands,  and  a  determination  to  do  right, 
whatever  happened,  "  three  gifts  "  that  perhaps 
could  bring  him  as  much  in  the  end. 


OR,   THF    YOUNG   CALIFORNIAN.  47 


CHAPTEE  IV. 

GOING   TO    CALIFORNIA  t 

IT  is  strange  how  soon  the  most  startling  things 
that  happen  to  us,  settle  into  a  matter  of  course. 
Before  another  Saturday  night  the  whole  Gilman 
family  thought  and  talked  of  "  going  to  Califor 
nia,  "  as  if  they  had  looked  forward  to  it  for  a 
year.  Sam  contrived  to  gather  more  informa 
tion  about  Cape  Horn  and  the  Pacific  coast  than 
he  could  have  learned  from  a  study  of  Olney's 
Geography  all  his  life.  As  Mrs.  Gilman  expected, 
her  husband's  adviser  made  a  determined  oppo 
sition  against  taking  a  boy,  and  one  as  sharp- 
sighted  as  Sam  Gilman  particularly.  But  she 
was  equally  determined,  and  as  Colcord  knew 
she  had  it  in  her  power  to  stop  the  sale  of  the 
farm,  and  cut  off  their  means  of  going,  he  thought 
it  best  to  give  up.  He  concluded  he  should  be 


48      "  ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  UI^TTEKS  •" 

able  to  manage  both  father  and  son  after  a  while, 
and  it  might  not  be  such  a  bad  plan  in  the  end. 

Squire  Merrill  tried  his  best  to  dissuade  Mr. 
Gilman,  when  he  saw  what  was  on  foot.  He  even 
offered  to  lend  him  money  to  stock  his  farm,  and 
get  started  again,  but  he  could  have  had  about 
as  much  influence  on  the  wind.  He  proved  him 
self  to  be  a  true  friend,  even  though  his  advice 
was  not  taken. 

He  bought  the  remnant  of  the  once  valuable 
farm,  paying  ready  money  for  it,  though  he  was 
afterwards  sorry  he  had  not  kept  the  sum  intend 
ed  for  Mrs.  Gilman's  use  in  his  own  hands.  It 
would  have  been  much  better  if  he  had.  His 
old  neighbor  could  not  bear  to  have  money  and 
not  be  generous.  With  his  hundred  dollars 
clear,  in  his  pocket,  after  paying  Colcord  enough 
to  secure  his  passage  in  the  same  ship, — it  was 
•jailed  a  loan, — he  felt  quite  as  good  as  any  one 
in  the  county,  and  would  not  listen  to  the  sug 
gestion  that  they  should  take  passage  in  the  steer 
age.  He  even  debated  going  in  the  Crescent 
City,  but  found  that  quite  beyond  his  means. 

There  was  one  comfort  in  this  self-import 
ance.  He  renewed  a  promise  made  and  broken, 


OB,    THE    YOUNG    CALIFORNIAN.  49 

.nany,  many  times,  not  to  drink  any  more,  and 
in  spite  of  the  past  sad  experience,  his  wife  al 
most  believed  he  would  keep  it.  It  was  this 
hope,  and  seeing  him  more  like  his  old  self,  kind 
and  affectionate,  that  helped  her  through  those 
two  weeks  of  preparation.  Her  busy  thoughts 
flew  fast  into  the  future,  as  her  needle  kept  time 
to  them.  She  said  to  herself  she  would  forget 
the  unhappy  years  that  were  gone,  and  work  on 
cheerfully.  How  many  bright  pictures  of  the 
future  were  wrought  into  her  daily  tasks  !  She 
could  even  see  them  measuring  the  land,  and 
sign  the  deed  that  gave  up  all  right  to  it, 
thinking  how  soon  the  old  homestead  might  be 
theirs  again,  and  once  more  have  fields  crowned 
with  plenty. 

Sam  seemed  to  think  a  long  face  was  expected 
from  him,  and  tried  to  put  on  one  every  time  the 
matter  was  talked  over.  He  found  this  harder 
and  harder,  as  the  time  came  near.  A  journey 
to  Boston  was  an  event  in  the  life  of  Ben  Chase 
he  had  never  quite  recovered  from.  Ben  Chase 
had  seen  the  Bunker  Hill  Monument  and  the 
State  House,  with  Washington's  Statue,  and, 
dear  to  a  boy's  heart,  the  Common,  with  its  re- 
3 


50     "  ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS  ;" 

nowned  Frog  Pond,  which  he  never  would  own, 
even  to  himself,  had  disappointed  him.  Ben 
Chase  talked  of  Boston  Harbor,  and  like  all  boys 
brought  up  out  of  sight  of  salt  water,  thought  of 
all  things  in  the  world  he  should  like  to  be  a 
sailor.  He  had  even  contemplated  running  away 
and  persuading  Sam  Gilman  to  go  with  him. 
But  Ben  was  a  deacon's  son,  and  heard  "  honor 
thy  father  and  mother"  read  out  of  the  big  family 
Bible  very  often.  He  had  compunctious  visit- 
ings  the  next  day  after  concocting  this  notable 
scheme,  at  family  prayers,  and  quite  repented  of 
it  when  he  saw  his  father  go  round  with  the  col 
lection  plate,  the  Sunday  after.  Now  all  his  en 
thusiasm  revived.  He  looked  up  to  Sam  quite 
as  much  as  Sam  expected  or  desired,  when  he 
found  they  were  going  "  round  the  Horn.  "  He 
favored  him  with  many  decidedly  original  sug 
gestions,  always  prefaced  with — "  I'll  tell  you 
what,  Sam, "  and  read  over  in  the  retirement  of 
the  barn  chamber  his  limited  collection  of  voya 
ges  and  travels,  burning  with  a  renewed  desire  to 

"  Walk  the  waters  like  a  thing  of  life," 

as  he  poetically  termed  staggering  across  a  ship's 


51 


deck.  Sam  sometimes  felt  a  little  uncertainty 
about  his  positive  happiness  in  leaving  home, 
when  he  saw  how  sorry  Julia  Chase  looked  ;  but 
Ben's  conversation  had  quite  an  opposite  effect 
on  his  spirits.  Julia  presented  him  with  a  heart- 
shaped  pincushion,  made  out  of  the  pieces  of  her 
new  hood,  as  a  keepsake.  Ben  deliberated  among 
his  accumulated  stores  a  long  time,  and  finally 
decided  on  the  big  hickory  bow  and  arrow  he 
was  making  with  a  great  deal  of  care  and  skill. 
"  It  would  be  so  useful  if  you  was  cast  away  on 
a  desert  island,  you  know, "  he  said. 

Julia  and  Ben  came  over  on  Saturday  after 
noon  to  bring  their  presents,  and  some  dried  ap 
ples  from  Mrs.  Chase  to  Mrs.  Grilman.  The  last 
were  prefaced  by  the  apology  that  "  she  didn't 
know  but  Mrs.  Gilman's  must  be  most  out." 
Many  a  useful  gift  had  come  from  the  same  quar 
ter,  prompted  by  equal  kindness,  and  offered 
with  the  same  natural  delicacy.  "  Neighbors  "  in 
New  England,  mean  more  than  living  near  a 
person.  The  rule  of  the  Samaritan  is  taken  ra 
ther  than  the  Levite's,  and  certainly  good  wishes 
and  kind  acts  were  as  "oil  and  wine"  to  Mrs. 


52      "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;" 

Gilman  of  late,  however  trifling  they  might  seem 
in  themselves. 

The  children  passed  a  greater  part  of  the  af 
ternoon  in  the  garret  chamber,  which  being  di 
rectly  over  the  kitchen,  was  warm  and  comfort 
able.  Sam's  clothes  were  to  go  in  his  father's 
chest — "  a  real  sea-chest  " — as  he  told  Ben,  but 
he  was  to  have  a  box  of  his  own  besides.  Pack 
ing  this  box  was  the  excitement  of  the  after 
noon,  as  it  included  a  distribution  of  that  part 
of  Sam's  treasures,  he  found  it  impossible  to  ac 
commodate.  One  particular  red  ear  of  corn 
presented  to  Julia  Chase,  made  a  great  deal  of 
amusement ;  some  speckled  bird's  eggs,  and  the 
principal  curiosity  of  his  museum,  a  carved  ele 
phant's  tooth,  brought  home  by  some  sailor  uncle 
or  cousin  of  his  mother's,  completed  her  share 
of  the  spoils.  The  sled  was  presented  to  Ben, 
and  Abby  and  Hannah  shared  the  remainder, 
feeling  far  richer  than  many  a  grown  up  legatee 
does  in  receiving  a  bequest  of  thousands.  An 
animated  conversation  was  kept  up,  Julia  bring 
ing  forward  a  fact  in  history  that  had  troubled 
her  very  much  for  the  past  few  days.  Her  class 
were  studying  Goodrich's  United  States  for  the  , 


53 

first  time,  and  she  remembered  that  when  the 
English  settled  at  Jamestown  they  discovered 
earth  containing  a  great  quantity  of  shining  par 
ticles  which  were  supposed  to  be  gold  by  the 
colonists.  She  sympathized  very  heartily  with 
them  in  their  disappointment,  when  they  found 
their  ship  loads  sent  to  England  turned  out 
worthless,  and  she  had  become  quite  anxious  on 
Sam's  account.  What  if  after  all  the  Califor 
nia  gold  should  end  in  the  same  way  !  Hannah 
and  Abby  were  very  much  agitated  for  a  while 
with  this  startling  historical  inference,  but  Ben 
did  not  hesitate  to  say,  "  girls  were  fools,  they 
knew  nothing  and  never  did  ; "  while  Sam  gave 
such  remarkable  anecdotes  and  facts,  that  they 
were  reassured,  and  all  grew  merry  and  good-na 
tured  again. 

For  the  first  time  in  many  Sundays,  Mr. 
Gilman  went  with  his  wife  and  family  to  meet 
ing.  His  new  rough  great  coat  and  respectable 
hat  made  him  seem  like  another  man.  But  he 
did  not  like  the  sermon  at  all,  and  considered  it 
as  meant  for  him.  It  was  rather  singular  that 
the  text  should  be — 

"  Lay  not  up  for  yourselves  treasures  upon 


54      "  ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS  ;" 

earth,  where  moth  and  rust  doth  corrupt,  and 
where  thieves  break  through  and  steal : 

"But  lay  up  for  yourselves  treasures  in  hea 
ven,  lohere  neither  moth  nor  rust  doth  corrupt, 
and  where  thieves  do  not  break  through  nor  steal." 

Sam,  who  had  persuaded  his  mother  to  let 
him  sit  in  the  gallery  with  Ben,  became  much 
more  attentive  than  usual.  The  new  minister 
evidently  had  the  California  adventure  in  his 
mind,  though  he  only  spoke  of  the  feeling  ex 
tending  all  over  the  country  ;  the  sudden  haste 
to  get  rich,  and  the  willingness  people  showed 
to  leave  their  families  and  their  homes  to  go  in 
search  of  golden  treasure.  He  said  if  they  would 
make  half  as  many  sacrifices  to  lay  up  treasure 
in  heaven,  they  would  be  thought  to  have  lost 
their  senses,  and  ridiculed  on  every  side  ;  yet 
there  was  no  comparison  between  the  worth  and 
value  of  the  two. 

Ben  on  the  contrary  thought  the  sermon  very 
long  and  tiresome,  and  amused  himself  by  carv 
ing  on  the  seat  what  he  fondly  called  a  ship, 
working  most  industriously  with  one  eye  on  his 
father's  pew,  to  see  when  he  was  unobserved. 
Ben  certainly  never  could  have  supported  exist- 


55 

ence  without  a  knife,  and  though  it  was  only  a 
jack-knife,  and  not  a  very  elegant  one  at  that, 
it  was  surprising  what  a  number  of  things  he 
managed  to  do  with  it. 

All  the  neighbors  stood  in  the  entry,  or  porch, 
at  the  noon  recess,  and  shook  hands  with  Mr. 
Gilman,  just  as  they  used  to  do.  His  wife  sat 
near  the  glowing  stove,  talking  with  Mrs.  Chase, 
and  could  not  help  thinking  how  much  happier 
it  would  be  if,  instead  of  going  away  the  next 
morning,  he  would  stay  with  her  and  the  chil 
dren,  and  try  to  get  along  at  home.  But  then, 
perhaps,  it  was  wrong  not  to  be  thankful  for  any 
change  that  promised  better  things.  Squire 
Merrill  spoke  very  kindly  and  encouragingly, 
Deacon  Chase  in  his  queer,  forgetful  way,  shook 
hands  twice  over,  and  insisted  on  driving  them 
home,  after  afternoon  meeting,  although  Mrs. 
Gilrnan  told  him  they  were  going  back  with  Mr. 
Conner;  whose  wife  was  not  well  enough  to  go 
out,  so  there  was  plenty  of  room.  Sam  on  his 
side  had  a  large  congregation  of  all  the  boys 
round  him,  most  of  them  looking  very  stiff  and 
uncomfortable  in  their  Sunday  clothes,  with  their 
straight,  sun-burnt  locks,  plastered  down  by  an 


56      "  ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS  ;" 

extra  allowance  of  soap  and  water.  In  their  se 
cret  hearts  they  all  envied  him,  and  he  knew  it, 
but  tried  not  to  overpower  them  by  a  sense  of 
his  own  importance,  leaving  it  for  Ben  to  set 
forth  his  probable  route  and  adventures.  Julia 
had  brought  his  sisters  a  big  Baldwin  apple 
apiece,  and  shared  her  luncheon  of  dough-nuts 
in  the  most  generous  manner  ;  a  kindness  which 
Abby  fully  appreciated,  as  all  their  apples  were 
gone  long  ago,  and  dough-nuts  had  been  a  rarity 
for  the  last  two  winters,  Hannah,  with  charac 
teristic  forethought,  saved  her  Bald  win  until  she 
could  have  a  good  chance  to  read  her  new  library 
book.  A  book  and  an  apple  was  the  height  of 
Hannah's  enjoyment.  We  must  not  forget,  how 
ever,  that  she  was  capable  of  self-denial,  for  that 
same  treasured  Baldwin,  with  its  beautiful  crim 
son  cheek,  found  its  way  into  Sam's  overcoat 
pocket  the  next  morning.  Let  those  who  have 
given  up  a  hoarded  dainty,  appreciate  the  sacri 
fice  ! 

Mr.  Gilman  was  very  restless — "  fidgety  "  the 
Deacon  would  have  called  it,  all  that  evening. 
It  was  Sunday  ;  all  preparations  were  completed  ; 
he  could  not  make  an  excuse  to  go  to  Mooney's. 


OR,   THE    YOUNG    CALIFORNIA^..  57 

and  he  had  to  think.     He  went  out  to  the  barn, 
and  even  mounted  to  what  was  once  the  hay 
loft.     He  walked  to  the  road,  back  to  the  kitchen, 
and  out  to  the  road  again,  with  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  and   his  hat  set  down  over  his  face. 
He  began  to  whistle,  but   stopped,  remember 
ing  it  was  Sunday.     No  one  but  He  who  can 
read  the  thoughts  of  our  hearts,  knew  all  that 
came  into  his,  in  the  quiet  and  deep  stillness  of 
that  last  Sunday  evening  at  home.    The  sermon, 
the  journey,  the  next  day's    parting  with   his 
wife,  her  love  for  him,  and  his  selfish  neglect,  all 
mingled  there,  and  brought  remorse  and  self- 
condemnation  with  them.      When  he  went  into 
the  house,  Mrs.  Gilman  was  sitting  in  the  fire 
light  with  her  children,  singing  hymns  that  her 
own  mother  had  taught  her.    This  had  once  been 
the  happiest  hour  of  all  the  week,  but  now  the 
mother's  voice  was  tremulous,  and  her  heart  full 
of  heaviness.     The  last  night  of  an  unbroken 
family  circle,  perhaps  for  ever  ;  the  last  Sunday 
beneath   the  roof  of  her  father's   homestead  ! 
How  could  it  be  otherwise  ?     Mr.  Gilman  was 
persuaded  that  this  was  the  commencement  of 
a  new  and  better  life  for  him.     All  the  indiffer- 


58      "  ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS  ;" 

ence  and  selfishness  of  years  seemed  to  melt 
away  ;  something  like  a  silent  prayer  came  in 
its  place,  a  prayerful  resolve  only,  not  one  foi 
aid  and  guidance.  Depending  on  himself,  and 
forgetting  how  often  he  had  been  self-betrayed, 
he  meant  fully,  at  that  moment,  to  be  industrious 
and  persevering  for  their  dear  sakes.  He  would 
toil  with  a  strength  and  energy  that  must  suc 
ceed,  and  his  wife  should  be  doubly  rewarded  for 
all  she  had  suffered. 

Perhaps  she  felt  the  certainty  of  this  as  he 
sat  near  her,   shading  his  eyes  with  his  hand  ; 
for  her  voice  grew  clearer  and  stronger  as  she 
sang— 
Ye  fearful  souls  fresh  courage  take, 

The  clouds  ye  so  much  dread, 
Are  big  with  rnercy,  and  shall  break 
In  blessings  on  your  head. 

Judge  not  the  Lord  by  feeble  sense 

But  trust  him  for  his  grace — 
Behind  a  frowning  Providence 

He  hides  a  smiling  face. 

His  purposes  will  ripen  fast, 

Unfolding  every  hour ; 
The  bud  may  have  a  bitter  taste, 

But  sweet  will  be  the  flower. 


OR,    THE    YOUNG    CALIFORNIAN.  59 

Oh,  these  calm,  thoughtful  Sunday  evenings 
in  a  New  England  home,  where  the  strict,  and 
it  may  be  rigid  rule  of  our  forefathers,  is  still  pre 
served  !  What  a  blessed  memory  they  are,  in 
after  years,  to  the  toil-worn  and  world-wearied 
heart !  The  dear  circle  gathered  in  the  fire-light, 
one  clasping  a  mother's  hand — the  youngest  nest 
ling  in  a  father's  arms  ! — the  long  quiet  talk  of 
pleasant  and  holy  things — the  wonderful  Bible 
stories  of  Joseph  and  his  brethren,  Moses  in  the 
bulrushes,  and  the  destruction  of  Pharaoh's  host — 
the  old-fashioned  hymns,  led  by  a  dear  mother's 
voice,  in  which  all  strive  to  join  ;  the  simple  me 
lodies,  and  the  pious  words  sinking  unconsciously 
into  the  memory  !  Who  would  exchange  these 
recollections  for  the  indulgence  of  carpeted  nur 
series,  a  servant's  twice-told  tales  of  ghost  or 
goblin,  the  muttered  sleepy  prayer  at  her  knee, 
when  another  Sunday  is  over,  a  day  of  idle  play, 
or  marked  only  by  a  careful  toilette  for  the  din 
ner  company  who  were  expected,  and  engross 
the  time  and  thoughts  of  worldly  parents  in  the 
drawing-room  ?  We  may  be  mistaken,  after  all, 
about  the  privileges  which  the  children  of  the 
rich  enjoy. 


60      "  ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS  ;" 

Actually  saying  "  good-bye,"  is  hardly  ever 
as  hard  as  we  expect  it  will  be,  or  the  loneliness 
afterwards  proves.  The  next  morning  found  Mr. 
Gilman  as  confident  as  ever,  and  bustling  around 
with  great  alacrity,  to  be  ready  in  time  for  the 
stage.  His  wife  did  not  allow  herself  to  think. 
She  had  her  breakfast  to  prepare — though  Abby 
was  the  only  one  of  the  party  that  seemed  to 
heed  it — and  many  things  to  see  to  at  the  last 
moment.  Wherever  she  was,  and  whatever  oc 
cupied  her  hands,  her  eyes  and  her  heart  followed 
Sam,  who  felt  all  the  excitement  of  departure. 
His  father  had  been  so  little  comfort  or  company 
lately,  that  it  would  be  easier  to  be  accustomed 
to  his  absence.  Sam  she  had  depended  on — his 
willing,  cheerful  readiness  to  assist  her,  the  frank 
honesty  that  never  deceived,  young  as  he  was, 
had  filled  up  a  great  void  in  her  heart.  His  very 
voice,  and  step,  were  music  and  lightness. — 
Do  all  she  could  the  tears  could  not  be  kept  back, 
but  filled  her  eyes,  and  almost  blinded  her,  as 
she  went  about  her  morning  work.  And  then 
the  time  came — her  husband  kissing  her  hurried 
ly  and  nervously  as  the  toiling  horses  came  in 
sight,  her  boy  not  ashamed  to  cling  to  her  neck 


61 


while  she  wrapped  her  arms  around  him,  as  if  he 
had  been  still  the  baby  in  her  bosom,  and  kissed 
him  in  an  agony  of  love,  and  fear,  and  blessing. 
They  were  gone,  and  the  house,  no  longer  her 
home,  was  empty  and  desolate,  and  her  straining 
eyes  could  not  catch  another  glimpse  of  that 
bright  boyish  face. 

All  day  long  Mrs.  Gilman  busied  herself  with 
strange  haste,  and  unnecessary  care.  It  seemed 
as  if  she  dreaded  to  have  her  hands  unemployed 
for  a  moment.  The  children  forgetting  their 
tears,  as  children  will,  played,  and  worked,  and 
disputed,  but  she  scarcely  seemed  to  notice  them. 
It  seemed  to  her  as  if  death,  not  absence,  had 
removed  her  son. 


62      "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS; 


CHAPTER  V. 

SETTING   SAIL. 

THEIR  future  constant  companion  joined  the 
father  and  son,  as  might  be  expected,  at  Mooney's 
Tavern.  He  had  no  leave-takings  to  subdue  the 
boisterous  spirits  in  which  he  set  out  on  an  ex 
pedition  that  was  to  make  a  rich  man  of  him. 
His  brothers  and  sisters  were  married,  and  had 
lost  all  interest  in  him  long  ago.  They  were  even 
glad  that  he  would  no  longer  be  a  daily  dis 
grace  to  them.  He  was  very  grand  with  Mr. 
Oilman's  money,  and  expected,  of  course,  to  drink 
to  their  success  in  a  parting  glass  at  Mooney's. 
He  had  drank  to  it  so  often  already  that  morn 
ing,  that  it  was  doubtful  whether  he  would  be  fit 
to  start  on  the  journey.  It  had  the  effect  of 
making  him  unusually  good-natured,  fortunately, 
so  that  he  took  Mr.  Gilrnan's  refusal  with  only 


OK,  THE    YOUNG    CALIFORNIAN.  63 

the  complacent  remark,  "more  fool  lie."  The 
stage  did  not  make  long  stoppages  so  early  in  the 
day  ;  away  they  drove  again — the  tavern,  the 
post-office,  the  white  meeting-house  on  the  hill, 
disappearing  in  turn,  and  then  the  young  trav 
eller  felt  that  home  was  really  left  behind. 

He  was  very  quiet,  he  could  not  help  it. — 
The  day  was  exceedingly  cold,  and  the  road,  for 
miles  together,  dreary  and  uninteresting.  The 
noisy  laugh  of  Colcord  troubled  him,  while  he 
thought  of  his  mother  and  the  girls.  This  could 
not  last  long,  as  the  stage  filled  up,  stopping  now 
at  a  farm  house,  where  a  place  had  been  bespo 
ken  for  its  owner  the  day  before,  or  receiving  a 
passenger  at  some  wayside  tavern.  Sam  began 
to  feel  all  the  dignity  of  being  a  traveller  him 
self,  and  particularly  w7hen  he  saw  how  much  the 
strangers  were  interested,  hearing  that  they  were 
bound  for  California.  Colcord  talked  to  every 
one,  and  made  himself  out  the  commander-in- 
chief  of  the  expedition.  He  was  going  to  "  in 
vest/'  as  he  called  it ;  he  expected  to  see  the 
time  when  he  could  buy  up  the  whole  of  an  in 
significant  little  village  like  Merrill's  Corner  ! — 
And  then  the  most  incredible  facts  were  related, 


64      "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;" 

exaggerated  newspaper  reports  given,  as  having 
happened  to  the  uncle;  or  cousin,  or  friend  of  the 
speaker.  When  they  came  to  a  tavern,  Colcord 
was  the  first  man  out,  strutting  around  the  bar 
room,  and  asking  all  his  fellow-passengers  to  drink 
with  him.  Even  Mr.  Gilman  seemed  ashamed 
'of  his  partner,  as  he  loudly  proclaimed  himself 
to  be. 

Sam  went  to  bed  at  Concord  that  night,  won 
dering  if  New- York  could  be  larger,  or  have 
handsomer  houses,  and  what  they  were  doing  at 
home.  It  seemed  as  if  months  had  passed  since 
bidding  them  good-bye.  Then  came  the  novelty 
of  a  railroad,  the  hurried  glimpse  at  Manchester 
and  Lowell,  with  their  tall  piles  of  brick  and 
mortar,  the  loud  hiss  of  steam,  and  clanking  of 
machinery.  How  busy  and  restless  all  the  world 
began  to  seem,  and  how  far  off  the  eventless 
village  life,  which  had  till  now  been  a  world  in 
itself. 

Colcord  did  not  let  them  lose  a  moment's 
time.  He*  had  found  out  on  the  journey,  that 
no  ship  was  to  sail  from  Boston  for  more  than  a 
week.  A  week,  he  said,  would  give  them  a  long 
start  ;  as  they  had  the  money,  they  might  as  well 


OR,  THE   YOUNG   CALTFORMAN.  65 

push  through  to  New-York,   where  whole  col 
umns  of  vessels  were  advertised. 

The  morning  ^pf  Jhe  third  day  after  leaving 
home,  Sam  found  himself  following  his  father 
and  Colcord  along  the  crowded  wharves  of  this 
great  city,  going  to  secure  their  passage. 

The  "  Helen  M.  Feidler,"  was  the  unroman- 
tic  name  of  the  ship  Colcord  had  selected.  She 
was  to  sail  first,  and  the  handbills  pasted  along 
the  corners,  described  her  as  nearly  new — fast 
sailing — with  every  possible  accommodation  for 
freight  and  passengers.  The  owners  said  she 
would  make  the  voyage  in  half  the  usual  time, 
and  if  they  did  not  know,  who  should  ?  In  fact 
the  clerk,  or  agent  at  the  office,  gave  such  a 
glowing  account  of  her  wonderful  speed,  the  ex 
cellent  fare,  and  the  rush  of  people  to  engage 
their  berths,  that  Mr.  Gilmanwasall  ready  to  se 
cure  three  cabin  vacancies  that  happened,  by  the 
most  fortunate  chance  in  the  world,  to  be  left. 
He  had  even  taken  out  the  old-fashioned  leather 
pocket-book,  in  which  the  bills  were  laid,  when 
he  saw  Colcord  making  signs  to  him  not  to  be  in 
too  much  of  a  hurry.  The  clerk  assured  them, 
his  warm  manner  growing  very  cold  and  distant, 


66      "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;" 

as  he  replaced  his  pen  behind  his  ear,  that  the 
next  day  would  probably  be  too  late.  Sam  did 
not  understand  what  Colcoi^L  s^d  to  his  father, 
but  almost  as  soon  as  they  were  in  ^he  street, 
they  told  him  he  had  better  stroll  around  and 
amuse  himself ;  they  were  going  to  look  at  the 
ship,  and  see  if  all  that  had  been  said  was  true. 
This  was  certainly  very  reasonable.  Sam 
wondered,  at  the  same  time,  what  had  made  Col- 
cord  so  suddenly  cautious,  and  why  they  did  not 
take  him  with  them.  However,  he  strolled  along 
the  wharves,  where  all  was  new  to  him  ;  the  in 
viting  eating  saloons,  with  their  gayly-painted 
signs,  the  sailors  in  their  blue  and  red  shirts,  and 
rolling  gait,  that  came  out  and  went  into  them, 
the  tall  warehouses  of  the  ship-chandlers,  with 
the  piles  of  ropes,  and  what  seemed  to  him  rusty 
chains,  and  useless  lumber,  scattered  about  the 
lower  floor.  It  was  a  bitter  day,  and  seemed 
doubly  cold  and  disagreeable  in  the  absence  of 
snow,  which  only  was  found  in  dirty  and  crum 
bling  piles  out  on  the  wharves  or  along  the  edge 
of  the  frozen  gutters.  The  signs  creaked  and 
clanked  in  the  wind,  that  came  sweeping  with  icy 
chillness  from  the  river  ;  and  the  bareheaded  em- 


SI 


•HE   STROLLED   ALONG  THE   WHARVES. 
1'age  C6. 


67 


igrants,  women  and  children,  that  came  trooping 
along  the  sidewalk,  looked  half  frozen  and  dis 
consolate.  Still  it  was  new  and  wonderful,  and 
so  were  the  rows  of  vessels,  schooners  and  brigs, 
that  lined  the  docks,  some  receiving  and  others 
discharging  their  cargoes,  with  a  hurry  and  bustle 
of  drays,  and  creaking  pulleys,  and  a  flapping  of 
the  sail-like  canvas  advertisements,  fixed  to  the 
mast,  that  told  their  destination,  and  their  days 
of  sailing.  The  black  hulls  and  dirty  decks  did 
not  look  very  inviting  ;  but,  of  course,  the  won 
derful  Helen  M.  Feidler,  did  not  in  the  least  re 
semble  such  uncouth  hulks  as  these  ! 

How  he  did  wish  for  Ben  as  he  walked  along, 
trying  to  shield  his  face  from  the  wind,  with  no 
body  to  ask  a  question  of,  or  tell  his  discoveries 
and  conjectures  to  !  He  wished  for  him  more 
than  ever  when  he  inquired  his  way  back  to  the 
lodging  house,  in  which  they  had  left  their  chests, 
and  found  his  father  had  not  yet  returned.  It 
was  a  cheap  place  of  entertainment,  and  chosen 
by  them  because  near  the  water.  Sam  did  not 
think  it  nice  nor  comfortable  in  the  uncarpeted 
sitting-room,  scarcely  any  fire  in  the  dirty  stove, 
and  nothing  to  look  at  but  an  old  file  of  news- 


68 


papers  on  the  baize-covered  table.  But  that  was 
better  than  the  bar-room  and  its  unwelcome 
sights  and  sounds. 

He  expected  his  father  every  moment,  and  told 
the  waiter  so,  when  he  asked  him  if  they  would 
have  dinner.  The  afternoon  came  on,  still  lone 
ly,  dark  and  gloomy.  He  began  to  be  anxious 
for  fear  they  had  lost  their  way,  or  perhaps  been 
robbed,  and  carried  out  to  sea, — he  had  heard  of 
.such  things.  Hungry,  and  tired  and  lonely,  he 
laid  down  on  the  long,  wooden  settee,  and  fell 
asleep,  dreaming  that  he  saw  his  mother,  and 
made  her  very  happy  by  telling  her  that  his 
father  had  resisted  all  Colcord's  endeavors  to  get 
him  to  drink,  and  talked  about  her  every  time 
they  were  alone  together. 

It  was  very  late — nearly  midnight — before 
the  men  returned.  They  were  quarrelling  vio 
lently  on  the  stairs,  and  poor  Sam  instantly  knew 
that  his  father  had  again  been  led  into  tempta 
tion.  He  did  not  know  until  the  next  day  what 
a  misfortune  this  had  proved.  When  his  father 
awoke,  haggard  and  sullen,  it  was  to  charge  Col- 
cord  with  having  robbed  him  of  every  cent  the 
pocket-book  contained,  more  than  half  of  all  he 


69 

possessed.  Colcord's  own  poverty  disproved  this 
charge.  Between  them,  there  was  just  enough 
to  take  a  steerage  passage  for  the  three,  and  pay 
ing  their  bill  at  the  lodging  house,  but  a  few  dol 
lars  were  left. 

They  had  not  yet  purchased  the  necessary 
tools  and  stores  for  their  business  ;  with  the  ex 
ception  of  a  newly  invented  patent  gold-washer, 
in  which  Mr.  Gilman  had  rashly  invested  a  third 
of  the  sum  originally  intended  for  their  outfit,  on 
their  way  to  the  wharves,  there  was  nothing  to 
rely  upon  when  they  should  arrive  out.  Col- 
cord  tried  to  get  him  to  exchange  this  for  the 
less  expensive  picks  and  spades  ;  but  Mr.  Gil- 
inan  was  stubborn  and  dogged,  as  he  always  was 
under  the  influence  of  strong  drink,  and  insisted 
on  what  he  considered  a  fortunate  speculation. 

It  was  in  this  way,  after  all  his  father's  pride 
and  spirit  on  leaving  home,  that  Sam,  with  his 
two  still  unreconciled  companions,  was  entered 
as  a  steerage  passenger  on  one  of  those  very  ves 
sels  that  he  had  considered  so  unpromising  at 
first  sight.  He  tried  to  write  a  cheerful  letter 
home,  the  day  of  sailing,  describing  what  he  had 
seen,  but  saying  as  little  as  possible  about  his 


70 

father,  or  the  vessel,  that  he  could  not  think  of 
without  disgust.  It  was  indeed  a  comfortless 
prospect,  to  be  shut  up  for  months  in  that  dreary- 
looking  steerage,  so  dark  and  stifling,  so  crowded 
with  human  beings  of  every  grade  and  country. 

The  same  glowing  description  was  given  of 
the  speed  and  safety  of  the  "  Swiftsure  ; "  but 
Sam  began  to  doubt  even  the  merits  of  tho 
Helen  M.  Feidler,  when  he  read  column  after 
column,  in  which  barks,  schooners  and  brigs  up 
for  California,  were  advertised  to  possess  every 
advantage  that  could  possibly  be  desired.  It 
was  his  first  great  lesson  that  promise  and  reality 
are  by  no  means  the  same  thing. 

Boy  as  he  was,  and  hopeful  as  he  had  al 
ways  been,  he  sat  down  disconsolately  on  his 
father's  chest,  and  tried  to  realize  all  that  had 
befallen  him.  The  place  described  in  the  adver 
tisement  as  "large,  roomy,  well  lighted  and 
ventilated, "  seemed  to  him  dark,  crowded,  and 
suffocating.  The  space  between  the  rows  of 
bunks,  as  the  slightly  built  berths  were  called, 
was  piled  with  chests  and  boxes,  over  which 
each  new  comer  climbed,  and  fell,  and  stumbled 
along,  venting  their  annoyance  in  oaths  and  im- 


OR,  THE    YOUNG    CALIFORNIAN.  71 

precations.  The  air  was  damp,  at  the  same  time 
so  close  and  heavy  that  he  could  scarcely  breathe. 
A  fear  of  stifling  when  night  and  darkness  came, 
made  him  start  up  and  rush  on  deck,  while  it 
was  yet  possible  to  do  so.  They  had  already 
moved  out  of  the  dock  in  tow  of  a  small  steam 
boat,  that  was  to  take  them  down  the  bay,  and 
carry  back  the  friends  of  the  cabin  passengers, 
who  helped  fill  the  decks.  There  was  scarcely 
an  inch  of  plank  to  stand  upon,  or  an  unobstruct 
ed  path  to  any  part  of  the  ship.  Water-casks, 
fresh  provisions  for  the  cabin  table,  crates  of 
fowls,  the  cackle  adding  to  the  general  uproar  ; 
chests,  boxes  and  trunks  of  the  passengers,  and 
freight  received  up  to  the  last  moment,  were 
scattered,  piled  and  packed  in  what  seemed  hope 
less  confusion.  If  there  was  dreariness  arid  heart- 
sinking  in  the  steerage,  the  cabin  made  amends 
with  its  uproar  and  jollity.  Every  one  seemed 
to  be  of  Colcord's  opinion,  that  too  many  part 
ing  glasses  could  not  be,  and  wine  and  brandy 
flowed  as  freely  as  water. 

It  might  have  seemed  a  festival  day  to  Sam, 
if  the  sun  had  shone  and  the  shores  been  covered 
with  summer  foliage  ;  but  the  sky  was  in  those 


72      "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;" 

close  racks  of  clouds,  so  often  seen  in  winter, 
chilling  the  very  sunlight  to  transient  watery 
beams.  Cakes  of  ice,  dirty,  huge  and  discolored, 
were  floating  in  the  bay,  crashing  against  the 
puffing  little  steamboat,  with  every  revolution 
of  the  wheel.  No  golden  horizon  could  gild  the 
chilliness  of  the  whole  scene,  or  make  it  promise 
brightness  to  come. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  the  steam 
boat  cast  loose  from  them,  and  the  ship,  with 
every  sail  set  to  the  strong  breeze,  went  on  her 
way  alone.  The  friends  of  the  cabin  passengers 
departed  with  cheers  on  each  side,  while  some  on 
ship-board  went  below  to  write  one  more  hasty 
word  of  farewell  to  still  dearer  ones  left  behind. 
The  pilot,  bearer  of  these  messages,  resigned 
his  brief  command  to  their  captain,  and  left 
them  last  of  all.  The  low  line  of  coast — the 
Neversink  highlands — that  last  glimpse  of  home 
became  indistinct  in  the  wintry  twilight,  as  the 
swell  that  bore  them  on  sank  into  the  long,  roll 
ing,  foam-crested  waves — the  boundless  expanse 
of  ocean. 

The  discomforts  of  th^^t.itable-sea-sickness 
past,  Sam  began  to  find  evett the  steerage  endura- 


73 


ble.  It  was  crowded  to  be  sure,  and  his  fellow- 
voyagers  were  many  of  them  quite  as  disagreea 
ble  as  Colcord,  who  formed  quantities  of  new 
acquaintances,  and  was  so  good  as  to  trouble 
them  very  little  with  his  society.  After  day 
light, — and  once  accustomed  to  the  rolling  of  the 
vessel,  Sam  slept  as  sound  in  his  bunk  as  when 
his  mother  came  to  tuck  in  the  bed-clothes  in 
the  garret  chamber, — he  saw  very  little  between 
decks,  until  night  came  again.  He  made  friends 
with  the  cook  in  the  galley,  and  the  sailors  in  the 
forecastle,  where  he  was  a  welcome  visitor.  There 
was  a  never-ceasing  interest  in  the  long  yarns 
which  the  sailors  told  of  their  various  voyages  in 
every  quarter  of  the  globe,  and  their  numerous 
adventures  in  port  ;  some  of  which  did  not  speak 
much  for  their  morality,  I  am  sorry  to  say.  It 
was  as  good  as  six  volumes  of  Sinbad,  as  many 
of  Munchausen,  and  libraries  of  Gulliver.  Sam 
watched  all  their  ways  with  the  most  lively  in 
terest,  and  considered  them  the  best  fellows 
that  ever  were  born.  "  How  he  should  like  to 
astonish  Ben  !  "  he  used  to  think,  as  he  sat  on 
deck,  watching  them  unravelling  the  tarred  ropes 
for  "  spitn-yarn, "  or  in  the  dim  light  of  the  fore- 
4 


74     "  ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS  ; " 

castle,  while  they  cut  and  made,  and  mended 
their  wide  pantaloons,  or  overhauled  the  thick 
clothes  provided  for  their  passage  round  the 
Horn,  a  prospect  that  did  not  seem  very  agreea 
ble  to  them.  He  found  himself  adopting  their 
peculiar  gait,  and  practising  from  a  large  collec 
tion  of  sea-phrases.  They  taught  him  to  climb 
the  rigging,  the  names  of  the  different  sails  and 
ropes,  and  the  meaning  of  the  curious  orders  sting 
out  by  the  captain  or  mate,  that  at  first  had 
seemed  like  a  foreign  language.  It  was  all  so 
new  and  exciting,  particularly  when  he  came  to 
understand  the  working  of  the  ship,  that  he  won 
dered  what  people  meant  when  they  talked  of 
the  "  monotony  of  sea-life.  "  It  doubtless  was 
monotonous  to  the  young  men  in  the  cabin,  who 
slept,  and  eat,  and  drank,  and  lolled  around 
the  deck,  sometimes  with  a  book,  sometimes 
hanging  over  the  ship's  sides  in  perfect  lack  of 
occupation,  "  like  cows  in  a  pasture  " — Sam  used 
to  say.  He  managed  to  get  up  a  great  feeling 
of  superiority  and  pity,  when  he  saw  them  turn 
out  on  deck  after  breakfast,  looking  so  languid 
and  sleepy.  He  had  been  up  since  sunrise, 
and  seen  the  decks  washed  down  and  cleansed, 


75 

seated  in  some  part  of  the  rigging,  above  the 
unceremonious  flood  that  followed  his  promenade 
on  deck.  It  was  his  delight  to  follow  the  sailors 
to  the  galley  for  their  kids  of  beef  and  cans  of 
coffee — what  an  appetite  he  always  had  for  the 
"hard  tack,"  and  meat  almost  as  unimpressible  to 
the  teeth,  that  fell  to  his  own  share  !  The  poor 
fellows  in  the  cabin  were  starving  by  their  own 
account,  and  thought  as  longingly  of  the  abun 
dance  and  variety  of  the  tables  at  Delmonico's 
and  the  Astor,  as  ever  the  children  of  Israel  in 
the  desert  did  of  the  flesh-pots  of  Egypt ! 

Many  good  mothers  would  have  been  troubled 
at  this  constant  companionship  with  men  they 
are  accustomed  to  think  of  as  degraded  beings  ; 
but  for  a  boy  with  Sam's  disposition,  it  was  far  pre 
ferable  to  the  example  of  the  more  refined  circle 
in  the  cabin.  Sam  knew  that  the  oaths  and  hon 
estly  told  "  scrapes  "  of  the  sailors  were  wrong. 
There  was  no  concealment  intended,  and  it  was 
easy  to  distinguish  good  and  evil,  when  so  broadly 
marked. 

The  twenty  cabin  passengers,  mostly  young 
men,  who  had  led  idle  and  dissipated  lives  in 
large  cities,  had  a  code  of  morals,  that  would 


76      "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;" 

have  had  a  more  secret  and  fatal  influence. — 
Their  conversation  over  the  card  table,  the  unend 
ing  games,  in  which  money  was  always  staked  to 
make  it  exciting,  would  have  had  a  much  worse 
effect  Sam  knew  that  almost  any  sailor  would 
drink  when  it  was  possible  to  do  so,  and  had 
heard  the  habit  spoken  of  as  the  worst  which 
they  were  given  to.  He  might  have  thought  his 
mother  was  mistaken  in  the  harm,  after  all,  if 
he  had  seen  the  daily  excesses  of  the  captain's 
table,  and  educated  men  boasting  of  the  quan 
tity  of  wine  they  had,  or  could  carry,  without 
being  considered  intoxicated.  Their  recklessness 
of  any  thing  good  and  holy  was  appalling,  and 
Sam  would  not  have  wondered  so  much  at  one 
of  them,  who  used  to  go  aloft  to  the  cross-trees 
every  fair  day,  and  read  or  muse  hours  over  his 
Bible,  if  he  had  heard  how  jestingly  the  sacred 
volume  was  named  by  the  rest. 


OR,  THE    YOUNG   CALIFORNIAN.  77 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE    STORM. 

A  FAIR  and  prosperous  voyage  was  prophesied 
by  all,  as  the  vessel  flew  along  the  Gulf  Stream, 
the  air  growing  softer  with  every  day's  advance, 
and  a  fair  wind  keeping  the  officers  and  crew  in 
perfect  good  humor. 

After  he  had  once  conquered  the  dizziness 
with  which  he  first  tried  to  climb  the  rigging, 
Sam  began  to  think  with  Ben,  that  the  most  de 
lightful  life  in  the  world  was  a  sailor's.  He 
had  never  been  very  fond  of  study,  though  he 
liked  to  read  when  the  book  exactly  suited  him. 
The  district  school  from  time  immemorial  had 
been  taught  by  a  woman  in  the  summer.  This 
was  partly  from  a  motive  of  laudable  economy 
on  the  part  of  the  school  committee,  who  thought 
it  their  duty  to  have  the  young  ideas  of  Merrill's 


78      "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;" 

Corner  taught  to  shoot  with  as  little  expense  as 
possible.  As  to  a  woman's  earning  half  as  much 
as  a  man,  or  justice  demanding  she  should  re 
ceive  an  equal  rate  of  wages,  it  had  never  entered 
into  their  wise  heads.  "  A  woman's  school/'  all 
the  boys  in  the  neighborhood  felt  to  be  entirely 
beneath  their  dignity,  whether  their  services  were 
needed  at  home  or  riot. 

In  winter,  "  fun  "  was  the  principal  pursuit. 
School  was  all  very  well,  as  an  excuse  for  the 
boys  to  get  together,  and  most  of  them  studied 
just  enough  to  keep  out  of  the  reach  of  punish 
ment.  Snowballing,  skating  and  practical  jokes 
upon  the  master,  were  pursued  much  more  indus 
triously  than  the  geography,  grammar  and  arith 
metic,  which  they  "  went  through "  again  and 
again.  Up  to  the  time  of  his  leaving  home,  Sam 
had  not  the  least  understanding  what  English 
grammar  was  intended  for.  The  master  who 
taught  it,  sinned  against  half  the  rules  in  ex 
plaining  them.  He  would  tell  them  they  "  dun 
their  sums  wrong,"  and  that  they  "  hadn't  got 
no  lesson  for  a  week/'  Nor  did  the  boys  bother 
themselves  with  wondering  what  it  was  all  about. 
They  were  brought  up  to  go  to  school  so  many 
months  every  year,  and  supposed  it  was  all  right. 


79 


Now,  at  sea,  there  were  very  few  books  to  be 
found.  The  sailors  had  a  collection  of  old  song 
and  jest  books,  voyages,  and  biographies  of  cel 
ebrated  criminals.  One  of  them  had  bought 
Fox's  Book  of  Martyrs  by  mistake,  at  a  stall, 
thinking  from  the  pictures  that  it  was  an  account 
of  some  great  executions,  possibly  of  pirates  and 
highwaymen.  It  was  the  only  thing  like  a  reli 
gious  book  in  the  forecastle,  except  a  few  tracts 
and  Testaments,  sent  on  board  by  some  society 
before  the  vessel  left  New- York.  There  was  a 
Bible  on  the  cabin  table,  replaced  regularly  every 
morning,  after  cleaning  up,  but  no  one  ever 
looked  into  it.  Cheap  novels  was  the  only  branch 
of  literature  that  had  any  encouragement  in  the 
cabin,  where  dice,  cards  and  dominoes,  formed 
the  principal  amusement. 

It  was  astonishing  to  Sam  how  much  he  re 
collected  at  sea  of  what  he  had  read  at  home. 
All  the  books  in  the  district  school  library  rela 
ting  to  political  life  or  history,  he  ran  through 
as  he  read  them,  without  attempting  to  remem 
ber.  He  could  not  recall  three  rules  in  syntax, 
or  the  population  of  a  single  country  of  Europe, 
but  facts  and  events  he  had  not  read  more  than 


80     "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;" 

once,  he  could  tell  by  the  half-hour  to  the  sail 
ors  in  return  for  their  long  stories,  until  these 
simple-hearted,  unlettered  men,  began  to  look 
on  him  as  a  prodigy.  They  taught  him  every 
kind  of  knot  that  could  be  tied,  or  plaits  that 
could  be  twisted,  all  the  practical  seamanship  that 
a  boy  could  understand,  and  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life  Sam  began  to  feel  a  pride  and  interest  in 
acquiring  knowledge,  for  its  own -sake,  and  for 
the  use  he  could  put  it  to. 

So  far  he  had  met  with  only  one  great  disap 
pointment.  He  had  privately  longed  for  a  storm 
at  sea,  with  "  waves  rolling  mountains  high, " 
as  Ben  used  to  quote  from  his  favorite  au 
thors,  and  the  ship  "  scudding  under  bare  poles, " 
one  of  his  newly  acquired  nautical  phrases.  He 
began  to  be  afraid  he  should  not  be  gratified,  as 
the  Swiftsure  was  fast  leaving  the  region  of 
storms  behind,  and  the  Horn  seemed  too  distant 
to  calculate  upon.  Every  day  as  he  went  aloft 
to  watch  for  a  sail,  he  looked  quite  as  wistfully 
for  clouds.  The  captain  had  promised  to  speak 
the  first  homeward  bound  vessel,  that  they  might 
send  letters  to  the  States.  He  did  not  intend  to 
go  into  any  port  but  Valparaiso,  as  they  were  so 


OR,  THE    YOUNG    CALIFORNIAN.  81 

fortunate  in  the  outset  of  their  voyage,  and  he 
was  anxious  to  round  the  Horn  as  soon  as  possi 
ble.  So  all  hands  watched  for  homeward-bound 
vessels  every  fair  day,  and  those  who  had  not 
become  too  indolent,  amused  themselves  keeping 
a  diary,  to  be  sent  by  them  to  their  friends.  Sam 
had  an  elaborate  sea-letter  to  Ben  on  hand,  as 
his  father  intended  writing  to  Mrs.  Gilman,  an 
intention  which  stopped  there,  for  though  he 
found  plenty  of  "  nothing  in  the  world  to  do, " 
he  never  found  "  time  to  commence.  " 

Ben  was  to  be  furnished  with  a  practical 
commentary  on  navigation,  that  might  fit  him 
for  his  favorite  pursuit,  if  his  father  ever  came 
to  consent  to  it.  It  opened  with  several  bold 
allusions  to  Christopher  Columbus  and  Captain 
Cook.  Sam's  first  great  discovery  in  seamanship, 
that  there  were  but  eight  "ropes"  in  a  ship,  after 
all,  followed  the  historical  introduction.  It  would 
seem  as  incomprehensible  to  Ben  as  it  had  been 
to  him  at  first,  and  he  enjoyed  in  anticipation 
the  puzzled  look  of  unbelief,  until  the  clue  to  the 
riddle  was  found,  when  he  proceeded  to  name 
the  complicated  rigging,  as  braces,  stays,  clue- 
lines,  halyards,  &c.,  and  contradicted  the  popu- 
4* 


82      "  ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS  ; " 

lar  fallacy  that  "  sheets  "  were  sails,  as  they  had 
always  supposed.  A  statement  that  "eight 
bells"  did  not  mean  eight  o'clock  alone,  but  were 
sounded  every  four  hours  in  the  day,  was  added. 
Ben  "  stood  generally  corrected,"  and  a  great 
deal  of  useful  information  upon  reefing,  furling, 
and  slushing  down  the  masts,  was  combined  in 
the  next  page. 

The  last  was  written  the  first  stormy  day  they 
had  met  with  since  leaving  New  York  harbor. 
Sam  had  been  on  deck,  as  usual,  in  the  morning, 
but  retreated  to  the  society  of  the  forecastle,  as 
the  wind  and  rain  gradually  increased.  None  of 
the  sailors  thought  it  was  going  to  end  in  "much 
of  a  blow  "  at  first,  or  that  it  was  worth  honor 
ing  with  thick  jackets  and  "  sou'  westers."  The 
cabin  passengers  sat  as  long  as  possible  at  dinner, 
to  pass  away  the  time,  and  bothered  the  captain 
with  useless  questions  every  time  he  appeared 
among  them. 

But  the  gale  increased  slowly  and  surely. 
One  sail  after  another  was  taken  in.  The  cap 
tain  was  on  deck  all  night,  the  mate  or  himself 
shouting  their  orders  in  the  teeth  of  the  roaring 
wind,  and  even  then  the  men  could  scarcely  dis- 


83 


tinguish  them.  Shut  up  in  the  dark  and  crowded 
steerage,  bruised  with  the  rolling  of  the  vessel, 
Sam  began  to  think,  on  the  second  day,  that  a 
storm  at  sea  was  by  no  means  so  romantic  as  he 
imagined.  Some  of  the  men,  Colcord  among  them, 
were  horribly  frightened,  and  sure  they  were  all 
going  to  the  bottom.  Some  slept  and.  some 
prayed,  and  cried  like  boys — some  boys  would 
have  scorned  the  cowardice — and  never  ceased 
wishing  they  were  safe  on  land  again.  Others 
swore  at  them  for  making  such  a  disturbance, 
and  exhorted  them,  in  no  very  pious  way,  to  "  die 
like  men  " — at  any  rate. 

Still  the  gale  increased  until  the  morning  of 
the  third  day.  The  captain  had  very  little  hope 
that  the  ship  could  live  through  the  tempest,  and 
did  not  attempt  to  conceal  it  from  the  few  pas 
sengers  that  ventured  upon  deck,  clinging  to  the 
ropes  and  sides,  lest  they  should  share  in  the  fate 
of  every  thing  movable,  and  be  washed  over 
board  by  some  retreating  wave.  It  seemed  im 
possible,  as  the  huge  foam-crested  surges  rose 
above  them,  that  the  vessel  could  ever  be  lifted 
in  safety, — as  though  the  roaring  waters  must 
close  over,  and  drive  the  ship  with  its  awful 


84      "  ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS  ;" 

freight  of  human  souls  down,  down,  down  to  the 
very  depths  of  the  yawning  sea. 

And  now  came  a  stunning  shock,  as  the 
dread  changed  to  the  horror  of  reality,  and  driven 
over  by  the  mingled  force  of  wind  and  wave, 
the  ship  lay  beaten  helplessly  along,  her  tall 
yards  dipping  the  dark  turbid  waters. 

There  was  no  time  for  thought,  scarcely  for 
fear.  The  worn-out  crew,  the  helpless  passen 
gers  guided  by  the  frantic  gestures  of  the  cap 
tain,  worked  with  a  strength  and  courage  im 
possible  in  a  less  awful  moment.  The  orders 
shouted  in  their  very  ears  died  away  in  the  roar 
of  the  storm  before  they  could  be  understood  ; 
but  all  obeyed  the  instinct  of  the  moment,  and 
worked  as  one  man  to  lighten  the  ship.  They 
cut  and  tore  away  with  reckless  energy  every 
thing  within  their  reach.  The  foremast,  with 
every  stay  severed  by  rapid  hacking  strokes — 
quivered,  snapped  like  a  reed  in  the  gale,  and 
fell  away  with  a  dull,  heavy  plunge,  heard  above 
the  awful  roar.  Not  till  then  did  any  dare  to 
hope,  or  even  see  as  the  ship  slowly  righted, — 
every  timber  creaking  and  shuddering  as  in  the 
strain  of  parting, — that  the  dense  clouds  drifted 


OR,   THE   YOUNG   CALIFORNIAN.  85 

with  less  violence  above  them,  and  the  gale  had 
spent  its  utmost  fury. 

In  the  first  certainty  of  safety,  no  one  thought 
of  the  losses  and  inconveniences  that  they  had 
suffered.  Yet,  by  the  time  the  sea  began  to 
subside,  captain,  crew  and  passengers  seemed  to 
forget  the  awful  danger,  in  fretting  about  losses, 
trifling  in  themselves,  at  least  in  comparison  to 
their  escape.  Not  a  trace  of  fresh  provisions 
now  could  be  found,  more  than  half  the  water 
and  meat  casks  had  disappeared  in  company  with 
the  mast.  The  "  doctor,"  as  the  cook  was  called 
by  the  sailors,  mourned  vainly  over  absenting 
pots,  pans  and  coppers,  that  had  gone  to  cook, 
this  "  food  for  fishes," — and  the  cabin  table  vent 
ed  their  disgust  to  half-raw  ham,  and  coffee, 
which  had  more  the  flavor  of  beef  tea, — on  his 
devoted  head.  The  sunshine  of  mate  and  cap 
tain  vanished  with  the  serene  sky,  as  the  rig 
ging  of  the  jury-mast  was  retarded,  and  the  sail 
ors  exercised  their  ancient  privilege  of  grumbling 
on  every  thing  that  "  turned  up,"  or  "  didn't 
turn  up,"  as  the  case  might  be.  Five,  ten,  fif 
teen  disconsolate  days  above  and  below,  until 
from  the  change  in  the  vessel's  course,  and  a 


86      "  ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS  ;" 

momentary  condescension  on  the  captain's  part, 
it  was  discovered  that  the  Swiftsure  was  nearing 
Kio,  to  refit  and  take  in  fresh  provisions. 

Perhaps  no  one  but  the  very  youngest  among 
them  remembered  with  more  than  a  passing 
thought  how  near  they  had  been  to  the  end  of 
life.  The  danger,  though  he  had  not  known  it 
until  it  was  over,  had  been  a  sermon  which  Sam 
could  not  but  listen  to,  and  he  wondered  at  first 
with  child-like  undoubting  belief  in  a  future  life, 
how  they  could  all  seem  so  indifferent  to  it- 
Then  the  recollection  became  less  vivid,  as  the 
sea  and  sky  returned  to  their  calm  beauty,  and 
were  absorbed,  except  in  some  just  waking  or 
sleeping  moment,  in  the  eager  anticipation  of 
land  ;  and  above  all,  first  setting  foot  in  a  foreign 
country. 

Nothing  could  be  more  welcome,  or  more 
beautiful,  than  the  first  distant,  then  gradu 
ally  deepening  view  of  Kio  and  the  country 
around  it.  "  Land  ho/'  had  a  magical  sound, 
that  brought  every  passenger  to  crowd  the  deck. 
For  the  last  week  the  discomforts  of  the  ship 
had  become  almost  intolerable.  Head  winds,  in 
creasing  heat,  salt  provisions  adding  to  the  era- 


OB,  THE    YOUNG    CALIFORNIAN.  87 

vings  of  thirst,  that  could  only  make  the  thick 
slimy  water  doled  out  to  them  endurable,  were  in 
cluded  in  the  list  of  grievances.  The  "Swiftsure," 
was  declared  to  belie  her  name  entirely.  The 
owners  were  rated  and  blamed  from  morning  till 
night  for  crowding  freight  and  passengers  into  a 
vessel  scarcely  sea-worthy,  as  they  now  suddenly 
discovered.  Sam  usually  kept  out  of  the  way  of 
his  old  comrades,  the  sailors,  unless  especially  in 
vited  to  join  them,  and  they  in  turn  crossed  the 
Captain's  path  as  seldom  as  possible.  Now  ev 
ery  thing  was  changed,  even  the  wind.  The 
men  moved  with  alacrity,  the  passengers  clus 
tered  sociably  together,  talking  of  tropical  fruits 
and  wines,  and  were  even  heard  to  mention  spring- 
water  complacently. 

It  was  the  realization  of  some  of  his  many 
dreams  of  enchantment  to  Sam,  as  the  shore  be 
came  more  defined.  The  rocks  and  foliage  of 
New  Hampshire,  for  his  home  had  been  in  one 
of  its  least  fertile  parts,  gave  him  very  little 
idea  of  the  luxuriance  of  tropical  countries,  or 
the  vivid  beauty  of  color  of  the  earth,  and  sea  and 
sky,  in  the  glowing  sunset  which  welcomed  them. 
It  was  so  strange,  after  the  isolation  of  the  voy- 


88      "  ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS  ;  " 

age,  to  see  other  ships  passing,  even  steamboats, 
trailing  their  lines  of  smoke  and  vapor  in  the 
distance.  The  sharp  summits  of  the  Sugar  Loaf, 
and  the  other  mountains  that  gird  this  fine  har 
bor,  were  touched  by  the  very  clouds. 

The  city,  picturesque  and  novel,  in  the  first 
distant  view,  grew  stranger  still  as  they  came 
nearer  and  nearer,  and  cast  anchor  at  last  in  the 
far-famed  harbor  of  Kio  Janeiro. 


OR,  THE    YOUNG   CALIFORNIAN.  89 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE   FIRST    LETTER. 

"  WHERE  do  you  suppose  they  are  now, mother  ?" 
Hannah  Gilman  kept  her  ringer  on  the  map,  as 
she  looked  up  to  ask  the  question.  She  was  tra 
cing  out  for  the  twentieth  time,  the  track  of  the 
vessel,  by  the  aid  of  an  Olney's  Atlas. 

"  Let  me  see,"  answered  the  mother  musing 
ly,  waxing  the  linen  thread  more  slowly,  as  she 
dwelt  on  the  thought  of  her  absent  ones.  It 
was  almost  the  only  pleasure  Mrs.  Gilman  al 
lowed  herself,  a  stolen  respite  from  her  never- 
ending  daily  labor.  "  What  day  of  the  month 
is  it,  Abby  ?  " 

"  Twenty-ninth — Hannah,  you  won't  get 
your  hat  done — Mother,  just  see  Hannah's  short 
straws  scattered  all  'round." 

"  Perhaps  it  would  be  just  as  well  if  you 
would  attend  to  your  own  work,  Abby, — how  of- 


90      "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;" 

ten  must  I  tell  you,  that  I  don't  like  to  see  chil 
dren,  sisters  especially,  interfering  with  each 
other.  Yes,  it's  April  29th,  Hannah,  and  they 
expected  to  get  into  San  Francisco  the  middle 
of  May,  or  first  of  June.  You  must  look  in 
the  Pacific  for  them  now,  near  Valparaiso,  I  hope. 
It  will  be  a  long,  long  time  before  we  hear." 

Four  months,  a  long  New  Hampshire  winter, 
had  gone  slowly  by.  How  slowly,  only  those 
who  count  days,  and  weeks,  and  months  of  ab 
sence  can  tell.  At  night  Mrs.  Gilman's  last 
thought  was  one  of  thankfulness,  that  another 
day  was  gone.  In  the  morning  she  woke  with 
a  wish  that  it  was  night  again.  They  were  liv 
ing  in  a  small  house  near  the  end  of  the  village, 
to  which  they  removed  the  week  after  New- 
Years.  Squire  Merrill  had  begged  Mrs.  Gil- 
rnan  to  stay  in  the  homestead  all  winter  at  least, 
but  this  she  could  not  consent  to.  Since  she 
must  leave  it,  it  was  best  to  go  at  once,  and  she 
could  warm  the  hired  house,  the  only  empty  one 
in  the  village,  much  more  economically.  It  was 
one  of  those  so  often  seen  on  a  country  road-side, 
standing  in  a  little  door-yard,  low  and  unpainted. 
There  were  but  two  rooms  on  the  ground  floor, 


OR,    THE    YOUNG   CALIFORNIAN.  91 

and  an  unfinished  attic  above  ;  but  it  was  all  they 
would  really  need,  and  the  rent  was  very  low. 
Abby's  pride  was  greatly  hurt  when  she  first 
heard  of  the  arrangement,  and  she  declared  very 
plainly,  that  she  "  never  would,  never  go  to  that 
little  mean  place,  where  old  Lyman  had  lived." 
Abby's  threats  were  generally  the  extent  of  her 
disobedience,  and  after  all,  she  proved  the  great 
est  help  in  moving,  and  getting  settled  again. 
The  two  girls  divided  the  house-work  between 
them  now,  even  the  baking ;  for  which  Abby 
began  to  show  a  decided  genius,  and  Mrs.  Gil- 
man  sat  at  her  needle  from  morning  till  night. 
It  was  all  she  had  to  depend  upon,  but  the  first 
year's  house  rent  which  she  put  aside. 

She  had  a  plan  for  the  girls,  which  she  ex 
pected  Abby  would  rebel  at,  that  might  in  the 
end  be  a  great  deal  of  assistance  to  her.  When 
at  the  store  she  had  seen  piles  .of  coarse  palm- 
leaf  hats  brought  in  and  exchanged  for  dry  goods 
or  groceries.  She  did  not  see  why  Abby's  nim 
ble  fingers  could  not  braid  these  as  well  as  knit 
stockings,  for  which  there  was  little  sale.  The 
young  lady  for  once  proved  reasonable,  and  even 
Hannah's  emulation  was  excited,  when  her  sister 


92      "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;" 

entered  into  a  precise  calculation  of  what  their 
gains  might  he  before  the  end  of  the  winter. 

The  palm-leaf  came  home,  looking  so  fair  and 
even  ifi  the  long  bundles,  and  the  two  sisters 
plunged  into  the  mysteries  of  "  setting  up," 
and  "  adding  in," — "  double  turns,"  "  binding 
off" — and  "  closing  up."  While  the  fever  last 
ed.,  Abby  could  scarcely  be  persuaded  to  take 
time  for  eating  and  sleeping  ;  and  when  the  nov 
elty  began  to  wear  off,  she  had  acquired  a  me 
chanical  skill  and  dexterity  that  made  her  new 
profession  quite  as  easy  as  knitting.  It  was 
harder  for  Hannah,  until  she  discovered  that  she 
could  read  while  she  braided  down  the  crown,  so 
in  her  hurry  to  get  to  this  favorite  part  of  the 
work,  her  hat  was  completed  almost  as  soon  as 
her  sister's.  • 

And  how  much  do  you  suppose,  my  little  city 
ladies,  who  are  always  in  debt  when  allowance-day 
comes, — these  industrious  Yankee  girls  received, 
as  the  sum  of  a  week's  hard  work  ;  rising  at  five 
o'clock,  and  never  ceasing  but  for  household  du 
ties  until  the  sun  went  down  ?  Eighteen  and 
three-quarter  cents  at  first,  not  half  as  much  as 
you  have  wasted  at  the  confectioner's  and  the  wors- 


93 


ted  stores  in  the  same  length  of  time  !  Three 
cents  a  piece  for  braiding. a  whole  hat,  and  Abby 
thought  herself  very  rich  w^en  she  could  do  one 
and  a  half  a  day  !  So  it  is — but  do  not  pity 
them  too  much — they  had  twice  your  enjoyment 
in  spending  it.  ^ 

Abby  was  on  the  last  round  of  the  brim, 
when  Hannah  laid  her  hat  down  to  took  for  the 
atlas.  They  had  all  been  talking  of  father  and 
Sam, — and  wishing  the  captain  had  been  going 
to  stop  at  Kio. 

"  WQ  should  have  heard  of  him  before  this  if 
he  had,"  I^nnah  said,  "  for  I  looked  in  the  ship 
list,  the  place  that  tells  all  about  vessels,  in 
Squire  Merrill's  paper,  the  last  time  I  was  up 
there  ;  and  I  aj^  some  vessel  had  come  in  forty 
days  from  KioN^That's  less  than  six  weeks,  and 
it  will  be  four  months  Thursday  since  they 
sailed." 

"  Here  comes  Squire  Merrill  now,"  remarked 
Abby  from  her  post  at  the  front  window.  She 
always  took  possession  of  it,  and  kept  them  in 
formed  of  every  passer-by,  if  it  was  only  a  boy 
driving  a  'yoke  of  oxen.  "  I  guess  he  does  n't  find 
it  very  good  wheeling,  his  wagon  is  all  spattered 


94      "  ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS  ;" 

with  mud.  How  high  wagons  look,  after  see 
ing  sleighs  all  winter.  Why  I  do  believe  he's 
oing  to  stop  here  fe  He  is,  just  as  sure  as  I'm 
alive.  I'll  go  to  the  door,  Hannah — he's  beckon 
ing  with  a  letter  or  something,  as  if  he  did  n't 
want  t^get  out."0 

Mrs.  Gilmqp,  usually  so  calm,  felt  her  'heart 
give  a  su^en  bound,  as  she  hurried  to  the  win 
dow  in  time  to  see  Squire  Merrill  give  the  letter 
to  Abby,  and  drive  off  again,  with  a  smiling  nod 
to  herself  as  if  he  shared  in  the  pleasure  it 
would  give  her.  No  doubt  he  did,  knowing  very 
well,  when  he  found  that  heavy  b^vn  envelope 
lying  at  the  post  office,  what  a  rejoicing  it  would 
make. 

It  was  Sam's  coarse,  but  -jew  plain  school 
boy  hand,  in  the  direction,  ancNl  there  had  been 
the  least  doubt  in  the  matter,  the  ship-mark  on 
it  would  have  told  who  it  came  from.  Abby 
thought  her  mother  was  the  greatest  while  get 
ting  it  open,  and  wondered  what  made  her  hands 
tremble  so.  Mrs.  Gilman  could  not  command 
her  voice  to  read  the  very  first  lines,  before  Abby 
had  made  out  half  the  first  page,  looking  over 
her  shoulder. 


95 


To  be  sure  she  had  a  right  to — for  it  com 
menced  :  c  •*  *  • 

"  Dear  mother  and  the^irls. "  *  It  was  dated 
Kio  Janeiro,  March  4th,  and  Taust  havF  cost 
Sam  a  week's  hard  work  at  least^covering  three 
large  sheets  of  foolscap,  and  full  of  "  seeching 
out "  and  interlining. 

"  Here  we  are  at  last, "  was  the  bov-like  and 
abrupt  commencjJRient,  "  where  I  never  expected 
to  be  last  Thanksgiving  Day,  did  I  ?  The  Cap 
tain  doesn't  want  to  be  here  now  ;  but  I've  told 
Ben  ajl  about  that  in  my  letter.  WrJR  an  awful 
storm  that  was,  though  !  I  never  expected  to 
see  land,  I  can  tell  you,  and  old  Jackson  says 
(Jackson  is  the  sailor  I  like  best,  you  will  see 
all  about  it  in  Ben's  letter)  he  never  saw  such  a 
blow  as  that,  ancPhe  never  wants  to  see  another. 
I  don't,  I'm  sure.  I've  got  so  much  to  tell  you 
I  don't  know  where  to  begin.  I  suppose  I 
ought  to  say  '  we  are  all  well,  and  hope  you  are 
the  same.  *  Well,  we  are — father  and  me.  Jack 
son  says  I'm  a  regular  '  lubber/  that  means 
very  fat,  with  him.  I  shouldn't  like  to  have 
him  call  me  a  'land  lubber/  though.  Dear 
mother,  you  don't  know  how  muck  I  want 


96      "  ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;" 

to  see  you  and  the  girls  ;  I  could  talk  to  you  all 
night,  but  I'm  afraid  I  can't  tell  half  I  want  to, 
on  paper. 

"  We  got  ftre  two  weeks  ago.  The  Captain 
thought  he  was  going  right  off  again,  but  you 
neve j^aw  such  a  lazy  set,  as  the  people  are  hero. 
Jackson  says  he  and  I  could  do  as  much  as 
twenty^ortuguese.  I  go  on  shore  almost  every 
day.  She  doesn't  lie  at  a  dock  as  she  did  in 
New- York,  for  they  do  not  have*  any  docks.  It 
seemed  so  queer  at  first,  to  see  all  the  vessels 
anchoret  out  in  the  bay,  and  the  little  boats 
pulling  around  them.  Just  think — there  have 
been  twenty-two  vessels  put  in  here  this  last 
month,  from  the  United  States,  to  refit.  The 
reason  is,  so  many  were  like  ours,  not  fit  to  go  to 
sea  at  all,  they  say,  and  to<f  much  loaded.  I 
think  the  owners  must  be  bad  men  to  risk  people's 
lives  for  the  sake  of  making  a  little  more  money. 
Don't  you  ? 

"  Father  knows  a  great  many  people  here,  he's 
got  acquainted  with  them  off  the  different  vessels, 
and  keeps  very  busy."  Good  hearted  Sam  !  he 
had  puzzled  half  an  hour  over  that  sentence,  lest 
he  should  betray  his  father's  faults,  but  Mr.  Gil- 


OB,   THE    YOUNG    CALIFORNIAN.  97 

man  well  knew  with  all  his  caution,  what  he  in 
tended  to  conceal. 

"  I  do  not  know  whether  he  will  find  time  to 
write  home  by  this  ship,  but  he  means  to " — the 
letter  went  on  to  say ;  for  Sam  had  seen  how 
writing  had  been  put  off  from  day  to  day,  and 
wished  to  soften  his  mother's  disappointment, 
if  no  letter  came. 

"  So  I  go  round  by  myself,  and  see  enough 
curious  things.  Why  I  could  not  tell  you  half  in 
ten  years.  Just  think  !  they  are  all  Catholics  in 
Bio ;  and  have  great  big  churches,  that  you  could 
put  two  or  three  of  our  meeting-houses  right  in 
side  !  They  don't  have  any  pews,  but  anybody 
kneels  right  down  on  the  stone  floor,  and  says 
their  prayers.  I  guess  our  girls  wouldn't  like 
it,  with  their  Sunday-go-to-meeting  dresses  on ! 
The  ladies  here  don't  seem  to  mind  it  at  all,  but 
they  don't  wear  the  same  kind  of  clothes.  Abby 
could  tell  you  more  about  their  rigging  in  ten 
minutes,  than  I  could  in  a  whole  week,  so  I  guess 
I  won't  try.  The  priest  (that's  like  our  minis 
ter)  sings  all  the  prayers,  in  Latin.  I  guess  the 
folks  don't  know  much  what  he  means.  There 
are  pictures  all  round  some  of  the  churches,  and 
5 


98      "  ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS  ;" 

I  like  to  go  to  hear  the  music — not  singing, 
like  our  choir,  but  real  bands  of  music,  that  play 
lively  tunes. 

I  got  acquainted  with  another  boy,  a  real 
splendid  fellow,  last  week ;  he  came  from  Boston 
in  the  Mermaid,  and  the  Captain  is  his  father. 
We  have  great  times.  There  is  n't  many  boys, 
going  to  California.  His  name  is  John.  Well, 
John  and  me  did  think  it  was  so  queer  to  see 
real  slaves  at  first.  There's  hundreds,  and  hund 
reds  of  them  in  the  streets,  and  the  streets  are 
n't  a  bit  like  what  I  thought  they  were  going  to 
be — more  like  little  narrow  alleys,  such  as  I  saw 
in  New  York.  (I'm  all  out  of  breath  with  such 
a  great  long  sentence,  so  I  guess  I'll  stop  and 
rest  a  while.)  " 

The  next  page  was  written  with  blue  ink, 
and  dated  two  days  later. 

"  Dear  mother,  I've  seen  such  beautiful  things 
this  morning,  that  I  must  sit  right  down  to  tell 
you  before  I  forget  it.  I  wish  Abby  had 
been  with  John  and  me  this  morning.  His  father 
took  him  there  yesterday,  and  he  took  me  there 
to-day.  I  mean  to  the  great  flower-shop,  which 
is  enough  handsomer  than  Squire  Merrill's 


OR,    THE    YOUNG    CALIFORNIAN.  99 

I  thought  just  as  much  as  could  be  they  were  all 
real  flowers,  and  wondered  how  they  kept  them  so 
fresh,  without  any  water ;  and  John  laughed, 
and  laughed  when  I  said  so  !  John  is  most  as 
good  a  fellow  as  Ben — he  knows  all  about  navi 
gation,  his  father  is  teaching  him  ;  I  told  Jackson 
yesterday  I  wish  I  had  known  him  before  I 
finished  Ben's  letter.  Just  tell  Ben  that  the  sun 
doesn't  stop,  when  it's  just  noon, — I  thought  it 
did  a  minute ;  but  it  begins  to  go  down  the 
minute  it  gets  in  the  middle  of  the  sky,  and  then 
the  Captain  knows  when  it's  exactly  noon.  Ben's 
letter  tells  about  it,  if  you  want  to  know. 

Oh,  about  the  flowers.  They  were  artificials. 
Abby  would  go  out  of  her  senses  to  have  a  bunch 
for  her  straw  bonnet.  If  father  and  me  stops 
here  on  our  way  home,  I  will  bring  her  and  Han 
nah,  and  Julia  Chase,  a  bushel.  They  are  made 
out  of  feathers,  bird's  feathers,  and  colored  shells 
• — the  littlest  things  /  you  ever  saw,  the  shells 
are  ;  and  a  good  deal  brighter  and  handsomer 
than  real  flowers  are.  I  mean  New  Hampshire 
flowers.  Rio  flowers  are  splendid — tulips  and 
dahlias  aint  nothing  to  them,  tell  Abby.  Why, 
geraniums  grow  right  along  the  road,  as  high  and 


100    "  ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS  ;" 

big  as  a  great  mustard  bush — and  that  prickly, 
green-looking  thing  like  a  snake,  Julia  used  to 
have  in  a  flower  pot.  The  cactuses,  are  noth 
ing  but  weeds  here — not  half  so  scarce  as  white 
clover  in  a  hay-field. 

Then  they  have  whole  farms  out  back  of  the 
city,  where  nothing  but  coffee  grows  !  I  haven't 
seen  it  growing,  but  John  has,  he  rode  out  with 
his  father  and  some  gentlemen.  The  slaves, 
(there,  I  meant  to  tell  you  about  the  slaves,) 
they  bring  it  in  on  their  heads  in  great  bags,  and 
trot  along  like  old  Prince,  singing  something  or 
other,  way  down  in  their  throats,  and  one  of 
them  has  a  rattle,  something  like  Mrs.  Chase's 
baby's.  I  don't  mind  the  slaves  at  all  now, — 
it  seems  just  as  natural  to  see  them  all  along  the 
streets,  or  curled  up  going  to  sleep  in  their  big 
baskets,  on  the  door-steps.  John  says  he'd  rather 
be  a  nigger  than  go  to  sea  before  the  mast,  tell  Ben. 
There  are  great  high  mountains  all  around  Rio, 
not  like  the  White  Mountains  look  from  our  house, 
but  right  up  sharp  and  steep,  as  a  bare  rock. 
They  don't  have  wells  here,  with  buckets  and  a 
sweep,  the  acqueducts  (I  believe  I've  spelt  it  right) 
brings  the  water  along  in  pipes  from  one  of  the 


OR,  THE    YOUNG    CALIFORNIAN.  101 

mountains,  and  it  spouts  up  in  fountains  all  ovei 
the  city.  Then  the  slaves  come  and  get  it,  and 
carry  it  home  on  their  heads,  like  the  coffee. — 
John  says  that  he  thinks  they  must  have  wooden 
heads,  or  very  thick  skulls  to  stand  it.  I  should 
think  so  too.  I  told  Jackson,  and  he  said  they 
didn't  have  any  feeling  ;  any  way,  Jackson  can't 
learn  'em  anyhow,  he  says  he'd  show  'em  how 
to  step  'round  ! 

I  guess,  now,  I  must  tell  you  about  what  we 
are  going  to  do.  Just  as  soon  as  the  vessel  is 
ready,  we  are  going  to  sea,  and  bear  right  down 
for  the  Cape.  Jackson  has  been  round  the  Horn 
twice,  and  says  we  must  look  out  for  squalls. 
We  are  going  right  down  to  Staten  Land,  that's 
an  island,  and  perhaps  through  the  strait,  Le 
Maire,  not  Magellan.  Our  ship  is  too  large  for 
them.  Then  we  come  up  to  Valparaiso,  and 
hope  to  get  to  San  Francisco,  the  middle  of  June. 
I  expect  I  shall  be  glad  enough  by  that  time. 
Father  has  just  come  on  board,  and  says  he  will 
write  by  the  "  Eacer"  that  goes  out  next  week. 
He  says  he  supposes  I  told  all  the  news,  and 
sends  his  love  to  you  and  the  girls.  I  wish — 
well,  I  do  wish  that  Colcord  was  in  Jericho,  and 


10'2  '"ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;" 

I  can't  help  it,  there,  if  it  is  wicked.  I've  told 
John  about  my  sisters,  and  Julia  Chase,  and  he's 
told  me  about  his.  We  have  real  good  times. 
Give  my  love  to  Mrs.  Chase  and  Julia,  and  all 
inquiring  friends.  No  more  at  present,  from 
your  affectionate  son — 

SAM'L  GILMAN. 

Sam  had  added  "  Esq."  to  the  above  flourish, 
but  afterwards  scratched  it  out,  as  if  he  concluded 
it  was  not  quite  proper.  There  was  a  lengthy 
postscript,  in  which  several  messages  for  Ben 
were  included,  and  ending — 

"  I  try  to  do  as  I  know  you  want  me  to, 
mother.  I  have  read  my  Bible  every  Sunday, 
and  keep  my  promise,  so  far."  Blotted  and  hur 
ried  as  were  the  lines,  it  was  the  most  precious 
part  of  that  long,  and  carefully-written  and 
boyishly  egotistical  letter  ;  dear  as  it  all  was  to 
his  mother. 

Ben  came  over  the  next  day  with  the  Sea 
Journal,  which  was  as  good  as  hearing  again 
from  the  travellers,  and  though  Mr.  Gilman's 
promised  letter  by  the  "  Kacer,"  never  arrived, 


OB,  THE    YOUNG    CALIFORNIAN.  103 

his  wife  felt  that  she  ought  to  be  only  too  thankful 
for  this.  The  precious  letter  was  kept  between 
the  leaves  of  the  family  Bible,  and  every  fold 
was  worn  long  before  another  came. 


104     "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;' 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

SAN   FRANCISCO. 

IT  was  the  Fourth  of  July,  the  great  holiday  of 
boys,  if  not  of  the  nation,  when  the  Swiftsure 
came  slowly  into  the  magnificent  harhor  of  San 
Francisco.  The  weather-beaten  sails  and  can 
vas,  told  of  a  long  and  disastrous  voyage.  The 
crew  were  sullen  and  discontented,  the  passengers 
worn  down  by  long  confinement  and  miserable 
fare.  They  had  escaped  any  furious  gales  after 
leaving  Eio,  but  encountered  head  winds,  and 
long  unhealthy  calms,  almost  from  the  time  of 
entering  the  Pacific.  They  laid  scarcely  out  of 
sight  of  Valparaiso  twenty  days  together.  Sam 
was  not  the  only  one  on  shipboard,  who  thought 
then,  with  almost  longing,  of  the  stiff  gales  and 
driving  sleet  and  mist  off  Cape  Horn.  Our  young 
sailor  had  comparatively  a  very  comfortable  ex 
perience  of  that  great  bugbear  to  all  seamen. 


105 

Sometimes  the  weather  was  fine  for  several  days 
together ;  and  gentle-eyed  cape  pigeons,  so 
tame  that  it  seemed  cruel  to  capture  them, 
came  round  the  ship,  or  the  passengers  amused 
themselves  in  snaring  an  albatross,  and  watch 
ing  the  flapping  of  its  useless  wings  from  the 
deck. 

This  strange  looking  bird  reminded  Sam  of 
the  story  he  had  read  in  verse,  from  a  book  belong 
ing  to  his  last  teacher.  Ben  and  he  had  carried 
it  off  from  the  desk  to  hide  it,  and  have  their 
own  fun  in  the  search,  but  finding  the  "  Rhyme 
of  the  Ancient  Mariner/'  read  it  over  so  frequent 
ly,  that  they  could  remember  more  than  half, 
when  the  hue  and  cry  after  the  missing  volume 
compelled  them  to  restore  it.  Jackson  and  his 
messmates  were  favored  with  recitations  as  they 
passed  within  sight  of  the  rugged  and  barren 
promontory,  and  stretching  far  away  for  a  favora 
ble  wind,  entered  the  long,  rolling  swell  of  the 
Pacific.  There  was  life  and  excitement  in  the 
hardest  squall  they  encountered  there,  that  Sam 
considered  in  every  way  more  agreeable  than 
the  sameness  of  a  calm  in  a  southern  latitude. 

Jackson  was  sure  a  sailor  must  have  written 


106      "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;" 

the  description  Sam  used  to  spout  from  his  fa 
vorite  "  Ancient  Mariner/'  and  was  disappointed 
to  find  it  was  only  a  poet — "  a  kind  of  craft " 
he  had  very  little  respect  for.  And  so  it  was — 

"  Down  dropt  the  breeze,  the  sails  dropt  down, 

Twas  sad  as  sad  could  be — 
And  they  did  speak  only  to  break 

The  silence  of  the  sea. 

All  in  a  hot  and  copper  sky, 

The  bloody  sun  at  noon, 
Eight  up  above  the  mast  did  stand 

No  bigger  than  the  moon. 

Day  after  day,  day  after  day, 

They  stuck,  nor  sense  nor  motion, 
As  idle  as  a  painted  ship, 

Upon  a  painted  ocean." 

Life  grew  almost  a  blank  to  those  on  board, 
until  the  certainty  of  nearing  San  Francisco, 
roused  once  more  the  feverish  excitement  with 
which  they  had  left  home. 

Sam  thought  the  last  night  would  never  end. 
He  walked  the  deck  restlessly,  and  tried  to  plan 
what  they  were  going  to  do.  Colcord  he' knew  had 
schemes  of  his  own,  that  Mr.  Gilman  would  be 


107 


sure  to  follow.  But  how  were  they  to  get  to  the 
mines  to  begin  with  ?  They  had  no  money,  no 
friends  to  apply  to.  The  day  broke  over  the 
broad  swell  of  the  bay,  and  lifted  the  heavy  fog 
that  obscured  the  new  city  of  San  Francisco.  It 
was  as  yet  a  wilderness  of  tents  and  canvas- 
covered  sheds,  stretching  along  the  beach  without 
order  or  regularity.  Here  they  dropped  anchor 
at  last,  and  another  eager  crowd  of  adventurers 
landed  on  the  shores  of  California. 

Mr.  Gilman  planning  the  voyage  in  the  bar 
room  of  Mooney's  tavern,  or  talking  it  over,  by 
his  comfortable  fireside,  was  a  very  different 
person  from  Mr.  Gilman  landed  on  the  beach  at 
San  Francisco,  not  knowing  where  to  get  a  break 
fast,  or  the  money  to  pay  for  it.  Colcord  too, 
was  more  crest-fallen  than  Sam  ever  saw  him 
before  or  afterwards,  and  condescended  to  say, 
"  Weh1,  Sammy  my  boy,  what  are  we  going  to  do 
first?" 

That  was  the  question,  for  they  could  not  sit 
on  their  chests  ah1  day  and  watch  the  vessels 
anchored  near  their  own ,  and  Mr.  Gilman  found, 
to  his  dismay,  that  it  would  cost  twenty  dollars 
even  to  land  his  cherished  gold  rocker.  Colcord 


108      "  ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS  ; " 

proposed  that  they  should  try  to  get  an  advance 
on  it,  and  for  this  the  two  men  left  Sam  to  look 
after  their  baggage,  a  very  useless  precaution  as 
he  soon  found.  The  whole  shore  was  strewn  with 
piles  of  goods  far  more  valuable  than  a  sea  chest, 
and  lighters  were  already  coming  and  going  from 
the  different  ships,  adding  to  them.  Sam  strolled 
off  towards  one  of  these,  as  he  thought  he  made 
out  the  ship  from  which  it  came.  He  was  not 
mistaken ;  the  Mermaid  had  arrived  before  them, 
and  if  the  disheartened  boy  had  suddenly  been 
set  down  at  home,  he  could  scarcely  have  felt 
happier,  than  when  he  saw  his  Bio  acquaintance, 
John,  spring  on  shore.  It  was  a  most  fortunate 
meeting.  John  had  been  a  Californian  three 
whole  weeks,  and  gave  Sam  an  astonishing 
account  of  what  was  going  on  in  the  country. 
People  had  to  pay  fifty  dollars  a  week  for  board, 
and  poor  fare  at  that,  John  said  ;  as  for  the  gold- 
washer,  on  which  so  much  depended,  if  they  got 
themselves  to  the  mines  they  would  be  fortunate, 
and  nobody  wanted  to  buy  machinery  on  specu 
lation  for  that  reason.  John  had  gone  to  work 
already,  and  advised  Sam  to  do  the  same.  He 
knew  men  were  wanted  to  help  unload  the  Mer- 


OK,    THE    YOUNG   CALIFOENIAN.  109 

maid,  and  other  vessels  in  port,  and  some  of  them 
had  ten  dollars  a  day ;  boys  like  themselves  were 
earning  six  and  eight.  John  had  not  much  time 
to  talk.  He  looked  as  important  as  any  business 
man  on  the  New- York  Exchange,  and  bustled 
around  among  the  sailors  and  porters,  assisting 
the  clerk  who  had  come  down  to  take  charge  of 
the  Mermaid's  cargo.  Fourth  of  July  gave  no 
respite  from  business  here,  and  but  for  the 
national  flag  flying  from  every  ship,  and  an 
occasional  ambitious  discharge  of  Chinese  crack 
ers,  no  one  seemed  to  notice  it. 

Colcord  and  Mr.  Gilman  came  back,  not  very 
amiable  towards  each  other  or  any  one  else.  Sam 
had  been  thinking  over  his  mother's  parting 
counsel,  and  came  to  the  conclusion  that  she  was 
right  about  work,  as  well  as  other  things. 

"  Never  be  afraid  of  hard  work" — he  said  to 
himself.  "If  one  kind  of  work  is  not  handy,  do 
something  else." — He  had  come  to  dig  gold,  but 
as  iar  as  that  was  concerned  he  might  as  well 
have  been  at  home.  So  he  thought  the^  next 
best  thing  would  be  to  earn  it.  Sam  walked  up 
and  down  the  beach,  with  hands  in  both  pockets, 
whistling  Hail  Columbia,  in  honor  of  the  day, 


110       "  ALL'S    NOT    GOLD    THAT    GLITTERS  ;" 

with  an  absent  air,  when  the  two  men  came 
up  ;  but  in  half  an  hour  from  that  time  he  was 
working  away  alongside  the  Mermaid,  under 
John's  orders.  Colcord  followed  his  example, 
when  he  found  it  was  the  only  thing  to  be  done, 
but  Mr.  Gilman  ®ould  not  forget  his  pride,  or 
conquer  his  indolence,  until  driven  to  it  by  a  very 
uncomfortable  night  on  the  beach.  Even  the 
shelter  of  a  canvas  tent  had  to  be  paid  for.  He 
did  more  real  hard  work,  that  one  week  in  San 
Francisco,  than  he  had  on  the  farm  in  six  years. 

Sam  now  began  to  be  of  some  consequence 
in  the  partnership,  and  felt  his  importance,  as 
might  be  supposed.  He  contributed  almost  as 
much  as  either  of  the  others  to  the  common 
stock,  when  they  came  to  purchase  their  tools 
and  provisions  for  the  mines. 

Mr.  Gilman  insisted  on  taking  the  gold- 
washer,  until  the  very  last  moment,  although 
after  he  succeeded  in  getting  it  landed,  it  was 
said  to  be  useless  by  people  coming  from  the  dig 
gings.  No  one  would  make  him  the  smallest 
offer  for  it,  and  rinding  at  last  that  it  would  be 
impossible  to  get  it  carried  across  the  country 
from  the  Sacramento,  he  left  it  reluctantly  on 


Ill 


the  beach  at  San  Francisco,  the  twenty  dollars — 
two  days'  hard  work  ! — paid  for  landing,  added 
to  the  original  cost. 

Sam  was  very  glad  to  bid  good-bye  to  San 
Francisco,  and  find  himself  actually  on  his  way 
to  the  mines.  He  had  seen  very  little  of  it,  ex 
cept  at  night,  when  the  eating  houses  and  gam 
bling  saloons  were  like  so  many  great  transpa 
rencies,  as  the  light  struck  through  the  canvas 
roofs  and  sides.  There  were  no  other  places  of 
amusement,  no  churches,  no  public  buildings  to 
visit.  Men  worked  and  speculated  all  day,  and 
managed  to  spend  at  night  almost  as  much  money 
as  they  had  made.  They  had  no  homes,  no 
family  circles,  scarcely  a  tie  to  life  ;  no  wonder 
that  half  of  them  grew  reckless.  Sam  was  not 
old  enough  either  in  years  or  in  the  world  to 
comprehend  these  things,  and  he  longed  for  new 
adventures.  He  gave  a  last  look  to  the  old 
Swiftsure,  rocking  in  the  bay,  without  any  other 
feeling  of  regret  than  a  fear  he  should  never  see 
Jackson,  his  sailor  friend,  again.  Jackson  thought 
they  might  "  run  alongside"  in  China  or  Cal 
cutta  yet,  but  Sam  did  not  think  it  was  very 
likely  his  travels  would  ever  extend  so  far.  John 


112     "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;" 

said  he  might  possibly  "  take  a  run  up  to  the 
mines  before  the  rainy  season  set  in," — for  Cali 
fornia  boys  talk  very  independently,  and  it  was 
John's  great  ambition  to  be  considered  grown 
up.  He  patronized  Sam  extensively,  the  last 
few  days,  and  slapped  him  on  the  shoulder  with 
a  "good-bye  old  boy — take  care  of  yourself" — as 
the  little  party  embarked  on  the  sloop  in  which 
they  had  engaged  passage  to  Sacramento. 

The  clothes  that  Mrs.  Gilman  so  carefully 
prepared,  were  reduced  to  a  very  small  compass, 
when  they  selected  what  they  could  carry  to  the 
mines.  Where  every  thing  had  to  be  paid  for  at 
the  rate  of  twenty  cents  a  pound,  and  provisions 
and  mining  tools  were  indispensable,  ordinary 
baggage  was  not  to  be  thought  of.  '  Many  boys 
of  Sam's  age  think  it  impossible  to  leave  home 
for  a  quarter  at  boarding-school,  without  at 
least  "  five  changes  of  raiment" — not  to  mention 
dressing  case,  desk  and  carpet  bag,  including  a 
silver  fork  and  spoon.  The  catalogue  of  the 
young  miner's  outfit  was  very  brief.  The  clothes 
he  wore— two  shirts,  and  a  huge  jack-knife,  with 
a  common  share  in  the  pans,  pick-axes  and 
shovels,  a  tin  cup,  frying-pan,  and  coffee-pot. 


113 

Boarding-school  fare,  much  as  it  is  berated, 
would  be  considered  a  feast  in  comparison  to  the 
crackers,  jerked  and  salt  beef — packed  with  their 
"  assorted  cargo" — the  stock  of  provisions  that 
was  to  last  them  to  the  mines. 

Sam  felt  very  dignified  and  Kobinson  Crusoe- 
ish,  as  he  stuck  his  knife  in  a  new  leather  belt, 
and  slung  a  coarse  blue  blanket  that  was  to  serve 
as  a  bed, — mattress,  quilts, pillows,  and  all, — over 
his  shoulder.  He  found  the  last  slightly  uncom 
fortable  when  the  sun  beat  down  upon  the  nar 
row  deck,  and  was  obliged  to  deposit  it  ignobly 
beneath  him.  He  was  ready  for  any  kind  of  ad 
venture  in  the  morning,  Indians,  coyotes  or 
bears,  but  such  an  unworthy  foe  as  a  mosquito 
cloud  damped  his  ardor  very  considerably.  He 
was  not  at  all  prepared  for  the  early  advances 
these  tormenting  little  insects  made,  nor  the 
perseverance  with  which  the  attack  was  followed 
up.  He  could  readily  believe  the  stories  some 
of  the  passengers  told,  of  men  who  had  gone 
mad  from  their  torments,  and  especially  of  a 
thief,  who  could  not  be  made  to  confess  by  the 
lash,  or  any  threat  of  death,  but  came  to  terms 
very  suddenly  when  tied  to  a  tree,  where  he  was 


114     "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;" 

exposed,  defenceless,  to  a  swarm  of  mosquitoes. 
Some  of  these  men  had  already  been  to  the  mines, 
and  were  returning  with  supplies  from  San 
Francisco.  Their  marvellous  stories  of  the  in 
creasing  abundance  of  the  gold,  the  great  yield 
of  the  gulches  on  the  Yuba  and  Feather  Kivers, 
and  the  ease  with  which  it  was  attained,  elated 
Mr.  Gilman  wonderfully.  He  was  in  better 
humor  all  through  the  trip  than  he  had  been 
since  leaving  New- York,  and  talked  more  to  Sam 
of  home.  To  have  listened  to  him,  any  one 
would  have  thought  he  had  always  been  a  most 
loving  and  considerate  husband,  and  was  now 
exiled  from  all  that  he  cared  for,  a  martyr  for 
their  sakes  ;  when  the  truth  was,  he  had  wasted 
all  that  belonged  to  them,  and  came  away  when 
his  wife  would  willingly  have  worked  twice  as 
hard,  rather  than  have  him  and  her  son  exposed 
to  the  hardships  and  temptations  they  were  now 
encountering. 

The  low,  foliage-covered  banks  of  the  Sacra 
mento  looked  pleasant,  late  as  it  was  in  the  sea 
son,  to  those  who  had  been  so  long  on  ship 
board.  Sometimes  they  had  a  distant  glimpse 
of  the  mountainous  country  they  were  approach- 


115 


ing,  through  the  glades  and  openings  along  the 
bank.  Then  the  river  spread  through  the  tule- 
marshes,  all  overflowed  in  the  rainy  season,  but 
now  only  beds  of  rank  coarse  rushes.  The 
voyage  to  Sacramento  City,  which  lasted  three 
days,  was  on  the  whole  monotonous  and  uncom 
fortable,  varied  only  by  a  succession  of  mosquito 
battles,  or  going  on  shore  as  the  sloop  warped 
slowly  through  the  cut-away,  a  kind  of  canal, 
made  by  a  turn  in  the  river,  which  had  forced 
its  way  through,  instead  of  winding  around  a 
jutting  point  of  land. 

Sacramento  City,  like  San  Francisco,  they 
found  to  be  a  collection  of  temporary  houses, 
half  the  population  living  in  tents,  which  were 
pitched  under  the  old  forest  trees,  so  recently 
standing  there  in  solitude.  The  streets  were 
more  regularly  laid  out,  and  rilled  with  a  motley 
crowd,  the  teams  of  emigrants  and  miners  ar 
riving  and  departing  constantly.  The  canvas- 
covered  stores  were  as  busy  as  if  they  had  been 
the  most  respectable  brick  warehouses,  quick 
sales  and  large  profits  being  the  order  of  the 
day.  The'  cattle  market  and  auction  sales  going 
on  in  the  open  air,  called  together  the  oddest 


116     " ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;" 

looking  people  Sam  had  ever  seen  ;  genuine  mi 
ners,  with  their  faces  and  hands  like  leather, 
their  long  beards  and  careless  dress  being  the 
most  noticeable.  It  was  certainly  a  great  con 
trast  to  the  quiet  routine  of  New  England  vil 
lage  life,  more  so  even  than  the  narrow,  crowded 
streets  of  Kio ;  and  Sam  sometimes  thought  he 
must  be  dreaming  over  Gulliver's  Travels  in  the 
great  barn  chamber.  What  had  altered  him 
most  of  any  thing  since  leaving  home,  was  having 
no  companion  his  own  age.  He  had  lived  among 
men,  and  listened  to  their  conversation,  until  he 
had  almost  lost  the  fresh  simplicity  of  boyhood. 
When  he  first  comprehended  his  father 's  faults, 
it  took  away  his  simple  faith,  and  the  care  which 
his  mother  impressed  on  him,  had  changed  the 
ordinary  feeling  between  father  and  son.  Pain 
fully  sensitive  to  every  weakness  in  his  father's 
habits  and  disposition,  he  could  not  bear  anyone 
else  to  notice  them,  and  never  thought  for  a  mo 
ment  that  there  was  any  less  claim  on  his  obedi 
ence.  Yet  the  first  love  and  devotion  of  his 
heart  was  his  mother's.  It  was  the  same  every 
where  ;  up  aloft  on  the  Swiftsure,  watching  for 
a  sail,  toiling  on  the  hot  beach  at  San  Francis- 


OR,  THE    YOUNG    CALIFORNIAN.  117 

co,  or  lying  in  a  dream  of  home,  as  the  sloop 
glided  up  the  Sacramento,  the  thought'  of  his 
mother  brought  a  glow  to  his  heart,  and  often 
tears  to  his  eyes.  She  should  not  be  disappoint 
ed  in  him  at  any  rate,  he  said  to  himself,  a 
hundred  times,  as  he  remembered  the  troubled, 
anxious  look  he  had  seen  at  times  steal  over 
her  cheerful  face. 


118     "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS; 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE    PLAINS. 

SAM  did  wish  Ben  could  have  seen  them,  as 
they  started  across  the  plains  in  the  wake  of  the 
team  on  which  their  cooking  and  mining  uten 
sils  were  carried.  Several  of  the  sloop's  passen 
gers  had  joined  the  party,  so  that  the  wagon 
was  heavily  loaded,  and  the  oxen  toiled  patiently 
along.  Before  them  stretched  an  endless  reach 
of  level  country,  the  road  winding  through  it 
past  clumps  of  oaks,  that  dotted  the  plain  like 
islands,  for  miles  and  miles,  with  scarcely  a  shrub 
or  rock  to  break  the  uniformity.  The  only 
danger  to  be  dreaded  was  a  scarcity  of  food  for 
the  oxen,  and  water  for  themselves.  The  springs 
and  wayside  pools  had  all  disappeared  in  the  heat 
of  the  dry  season,  and  every  person  carried  their 
bottle  of  water,  as  carefully  as  if  it  had 


OR,   THE    YOUNG   CALIFORNIAN.  119 

some  costly  luxury.  If  water  had  been  the  only 
liquid  that  the  party  carried,  it  would  perhaps 
have  been  better  for  many  of  them,  Mr.  Gilman 
included. 

The  afternoon  shadows  were  stretching  from 
the  tents  pitched  on  the  outskirts  of  Sacramen 
to,  when  they  left  it,  and  the  first  stage  of  their 
journey  lengthened  to  midnight.  The  owner  of 
the  oxen,  a  fortune  in  themselves  at  this  time, 
took  good  care  to  guide  them  to  a  spring,  and 
here  they  halted  for  the  night.  The  cattle  were 
turned  loose  to  graze,  fires  were  built  of  dry 
twio-s  and  branches,  kettles  boiled,  and  beef 

O  /  / 

hissed  in  the  frying-pan.  Sam  was  installed  the 
cook  for  their  party.  His  father  stretched  him 
self  on  the  grass  as  soon  as  possible,  and  Colcord 
knew  very  little  about  the  matter.  It  was  no 
hardship  to  the  young  cook,  who  watched  the 
rest  of  the  party,  and  practised  on  his  recollec 
tions  of  the  galley  of  the  Swiftsure.  Never  had 
beef  or  coffee  tasted  like  that  to  him,  though  he 
was  no  more  remarkable  for  a  bad  appetite  than 
most  boys  of  his  age;  at  any  time.  He  was  so 
delighted  with  his  success,  that  he  thought  it 
was  useless  to  try  to  go  to  sleep.  And  so  it 


120     "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS: 


was.  He  found  it  the  very  easiest  thing  in  the 
world,  once  rolled  in  his  blanket,  watching  the 
moonlight  flicker  through  the  leaves  on  the 
queer  figures  stretched  around  him. 

Long  before  daylight  the  little  camp  was 
again  in  motion,  the  remnants  of  the  last  night 's 
supper  made  them  a  hurried  meal,  the  kettles 
were  slung-to  the  wagon,  the  oxen  driven  in  and 
harnessed,  the  water  bottles  filled,  and  they  were 
miles  on  their  journey  when  the  sun  rose.  This 
early  start  was  to  avoid  the  great  heat  of  the  un 
sheltered  road  at  mid-day,  and  halting  as  be 
fore,  at  a  clump  of  low  scrub  oaks,  they  lolled 
around  in  what  shade  they  could  find,  cooked 
their  dinners,  and  waited  until  almost  nightfall  to 
recommence  their  journey. 

The  fourth  day  they  were  not  so  successful 
in  finding  water.  They  were  later  in  starting, 
as  the  cattle  had  strayed  some  distance,  and  the 
sun  came  out  hot  and  red.  Neither  the  men  nor 
animals  were  fresh,  the  loose  gravelly  ridges  of 
the  road  impeded  them,  and  their  flasks  were  all 
empty,  from  the  lengthened  merry-making  of  the 
night  before.  The  straggling  party  dragged 
slowly  along,  their  steps  impeded  by  as  little 


121 


clothing  as  it  was  possible  to  wear.  The  pa 
tient  oxen  lolled  their  parched  tongues,  and  the 
jokes  and  snatches  of  negro  melodies,  with  which 
the  men  beguiled  the  time,  died  away  in  an 
ominous  quiet.  They  had  not  breath  to  waste 
even  in  complaining.  It  was  almost  noon  when 
they  came  to  a  shallow  stagnant  pool,  mantling 
with  green  mould,  and  the  driver  tried  in  vain 
to  make  them  pass  it  without  halting.  He  ex 
pected  to  find  a  spring  by  digging  in  the  dry 
hollows,  through  which  the  road  sometimes  ran  ; 
but  they  would  not  listen  to  him  in  their  fran 
tic  thirst.  Some  of  the  party  threw  themselves 
on  the  ground,  and  drank  where  the  oxen  them 
selves  turned  away,  and  then  sickened  of  the 
nauseous  draught.  Others  tried  in  vain  to  con 
quer  their  disgust,  and  but  moistened  their 
parched  lips. 

Poor  Sam,  the  bravest  of  them  all,  had  ne 
ver  imagined  such  suffering.  His  feet  seemed 
like  bars  of  iron  as  he  tried  to  keep  in  the  sandy 
road,  and  his  head  grew  dizzy,  while  his  mind 
wandered  to  the  old  well  at  home,  the  ice-cold 
water  brimming  and  dripping  over  the  bucket, 
as  he  raised  it  to  his  lips.  Then  he  seemed  to 


122     "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;" 

hear  the  plash  of  the  fountains  at  Rio,  mocking 
him, — the  recollection  of  the  scanty  allowance, 
warm  and  unpalatable  as  it  then  seemed,  served 
out  to  them  at  sea,  was  delicious.  He  thought 
he  must  die  as  travellers  in  the  great  deserts 
had  done,  and  he  tried  to  pray,  but  his  mind 
wandered  again  to  the  old  well,  to  the  mill 
pond,  with  its  shadow  of  alder  bushes,  and 
sweet  flags.  Could  it  be  possible  that  he  had 
ever  wasted  water  so — that  it  had  ever  been 
plentiful  enough  to  bathe  in,  to  float  about, 
laving  his  limbs  with  its  cool  ripple.  Then  he 
looked  around  again  to  try  and  remember  where 
he  was,  and  saw  the  dreary  plain,  the  short 
fringe  of  grass  withered  to  dust  beneath  his  feet, 
and  the  first  belt  of  timber  where  they  could 
hope  for  shade,  miles  beyond,  the  furnace  glow 
of  the  plain  cutting  off  all  hope  of  reaching  it 
alive.  He  would  have  laid  down  there,  and 
died,  or  gone  raging  mad,  as  men  have  done 
from  thirst,  had  not  his  father  sunk  with  fatigue 
and  fever,  resisting  the  entreaties  of  his  compa 
nions.  It  roused  him  for  a  moment  to  forget- 
fulness  of  his  own  agony.  He  urged  and  prayed, 
and  entreated  his  father  to  struggle  on  a  little 


OB,  THE    YOUNG    CALIFORNIAN.  123 

longer,  with  no  answer  but  moans  of  suffering. 
He  could  not  leave  him  to  die  by  the  road-side. 
But  they  must  both  perish,  if  he  staid  there 
longer ;  the  train,  slowly  as  it  moved,  was  far 
ahead  of  them.  He  lost  sight  of  their  guide  de 
scending  in  a  dry  ravine.  Why  did  they  stop 
there  so  long  ?  they  could  not  all  have  de 
spaired  ;  the  last  straggler  hurried  forward — he 
thought  he  heard  a  faint  shout — a  cry  of  joy  ! 
He  left  his  father  alone  on  the  hot  sand  ;  he  ran, 
he  struggled  on,  as  in  some  horrid  dream,  feel 
ing  that  every  step  must  be  the  last,  that  he 
should  never,  never  reach  the  train.  All  con 
sciousness  of  action  left  him, — but  they  saw  him, 
they  came  towards  him,  some  less  selfish,  less 
delirious  than  the  rest  ;  and  as  he  staggered  and 
fell,  a  kind  hand  held  water  to  his  lips,  and 
dashed  it  on  his  face.  In  that  first  gasp  of  re 
turning  strength,  he  only  thought  that  his  fa 
ther's  life  was  saved.  What  was  gold — mines 
of  gold — mountains  of  gold,  to  that  one  precious 
draught,  that  most  common  of  all  God's  bless 
ings,  water  ! 

No  one  thought  of  food  for  hours  after.     A 
shop,  almost  like  lethargy,  followed  the  intense 


124     "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;" 

thirst  and  exhaustion,  and  then  as  night  came, 
they  woke  to  drink  and  sleep  again.  They 
scarcely  noticed  the  long  unbroken  outline  of  the 
Sierra  rising  before  them,  the  first  wooded  slope 
of  the  highlands  being  almost  gained.  For  once 
they  forgot  even  their  thirst  for  gold. 

The  next  evening's  travel  was  delightful,  after 
they  had  entered  the  scattered  wood  at  the  bot 
tom  of  the  hills,  although  the  path  was  rough 
and  uneven.  The  stir  of  foliage  overhead  was 
pleasant,  and  rocks  and  falling  trees,  though  they 
made  the  way  more  difficult, were  something  to  rest 
the  eye  after  the  unbroken  sameness  of  the  plains. 
Sam  could  scarcely  realize  their  late  danger,  en 
camped  for  the  night  near  a  small  but  clear  and 
sparkling  lake  one  of  the  party  had  discovered 
among  the  hills.  The  camp  fires  streamed  up, 
the  coffee  bubbled  and  steamed  over  the  glowing 
coals,  they  eat  and  drank  and  sang,  and  specu 
lated  over  the  sums  they  expected  to  make,  with 
reckless  unconcern,  though  only  the  day  before 
they  would  have  given  all  but  life  for  a  cup  of  cold 
water  !  Most  of  them  had  met  with  too  many 
perils  and  hairbreadth  escapes,  to  give  one  thought 
to  any  thing  that  was  fairly  over  with,  however 


OB,  THE   YOUNG   CALIFORNIA]*.  125 

frightful  or  disagreeable  it  might  be  at  the  time, 
and  they  were  within  one  day's  journey  of  the 
waters  of  the  Yuba — and  boundless  wealth.  At 
least  it  was  theirs  in  anticipation,  though  many 
of  them  were  never  to  have  it  in  reality. 

It  was  almost  as  thrilling  as  the  first  cry  of 
"  land ! "  when  Sam  reached  the  summit  of 
the  mountain  ridge,  and  looked  down  upon  the 
camp  of  the  miners  on  Larkin's  Bar. 

Here  he  was, — the  same  good-hearted  daring 
boy,  that  a  year  ago  had  considered  a  ducking 
in  the  mill-pond,  or  climbing  Prospect  Mountain, 
an  adventure, — in  the  very  heart  of  a  Califor 
nia  range,  thinking  as  eagerly  of  gold  hunting, 
as  the  party  of  bearded,  travel- worn  men  around 
him.  His  brown  sunburnt  face,  neglected  hair, 
and  careless  dress,  would  have  drawn  a  crowd  in 
Yankee-land,  but  here  it  was  the  costume  of  the 
country.  He  stood  on  the  very  highest  spur  of 
the  hill,  looking  back  with  a  wave  of  the  tin  cup 
in  his  hand  to  cheer  on  less  active  climbers,  and 
then  down  into  the  ravine,  through  which  the 
shrunken  stream  brawled  and  foamed,  as  if  fretted 
at  the  many  intruders  that  were  tearing  up  its 
banks. 


126      "  ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS  ;  " 

Sam  had  heard  them  talk  of  bars,  and 
knew  they  were  going  to  one,  but  he  had  always 
supposed  it  was  like  the  bar  at  the  entrance  of  a 
river  or  harbor.  To  his  great  wonder,  it  was  only 
the  bed  of  the  river,  laid  bare  by  the  water  sub 
siding  in  the  dry  season,  into  a  narrow,  rocky 
channel.  As  the  particles  of  gold  were  washed 
down  from  the  mountains,  they  were  deposited 
on  these  bars,  beneath  the  loose,  gravelly  soil,  or 
in  the  fissures  of  the  rocks.  The  miners'  camp 
was  beneath  the  high  bluff  on  which  he  stood.  A 
few  small  tents,  a  rough  canvas-covered  shed, 
dignified  into  a  store, — some  benches  and  a  table, 
at  which  meals  were  served  to  those  who  could 
afford  the  luxury  of  having  their  cooking  done 
for  them,  and  groups  of  cooking  utensils  at  in 
tervals  marking  the  place  where  less  opulent  in 
dividuals  "  did  their  own  work,"  and  slept  in 
their  blankets,  was  all  that  made  Larkin's  Bar 
a  habitable  place. 

It  was  nearly  sundown  when  they  reached 
it,  and  most  of  the  miners  had  finished  a  week's 
hard  toil,  and  were  collecting  or  calculating 
their  gains.  The  only  curiosity  they  showed  in 
receiving  the  new  comers,  was  for  news  from  the 


OR,  THE    YOUNG   CALIFORNIA]*.  127 

States,  and  when  a  mail  was  expected  ;  but  they 
were  very  good-natured  in  giving  them  all  the 
information  they  wanted. 

Mr.  Gilman  was  not  at  all  pleased  with  his  first 
discovery.  All  the  bar  had  been  claimed,  or 
bought  of  the  original  discoverers;  and  the  priv 
ilege  of  working  it  was  to  be  paid  for,  accord 
ingly.  The  smallest  claim,  as  the  water  lots 
were  called,  could  not  be  had  under  three  hundred 
dollars.  Mr.  Gilman  was  for  resisting  any  such 
injustice,  and  Sam  did  not  like  the  idea  of  work 
ing  two  or  three  weeks  for  other  people,  when 
they  might  as  well  be  helping  themselves.  It  was 
found  the  best  and  only  thing  they  could  do  in 
the  end,  as  all  the  bars  in  the  neighborhood  were 
occupied,  and  they  would  lose  more  time  in  go 
ing  on  to  the  Feather  Kiver  ;  it  might  be  only  to 
find  the  same  thing  there. 

There  was  some  comfort  in  hearing  that  near 
ly  every  one  who  arrived  hired  themselves  out 
for  a  few  days,  to  learn  how  to  handle  their  tools  ; 
but  the  commencement  of  Mr.  Oilman's  schemes 
of  independence,  was  to  find  himself  using  a 
spade  and  pickaxe  as  a  day-laborer. 


128     "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS; 


CHAPTER  X. 

A  GLIMPSE   AT   THE   MINES. 

AND  now  the  romance  of  "  going  to  California  " 
began  to  subside  into  the  dull  reality  of  a  pick 
and  shovel.  The  claim  would  never  have  been 
purchased  but  for  Sam.  It  did  not  suit  either 
Mr.  Gilman's  or  Colcord's  inclinations  to  settle 
down  to  steady,  hard  work,  after  all  the  stories 
of  wonderful  "luck"  they  had  heard  in  the 
States  and  on  their  way  to  the  mines.  Such 
things  had  happened  more  frequently  before  the 
crowd  of  miners  had  scoured  the  whole  country. 
Gold  that  had  laid  undisturbed  for  ages,  silently 
collecting  in  the  crevices  of  the  rock,  was  discov 
ered  by  some  fortunate  stroke,  and  gathered  al 
most  pure.  But  the  first  boundless  harvest  was 
nearly  over,  and  the  gold  crop,  like  any  other, 
was  not  to  be  had  without  labor. 

Every  straggling  party  that  came  to  their 


OR,    THE    YOUNG    CALIFORNIA!*.  129 

camp  was  questioned  by  Mr.  Gilman,  who  took 
all  they  said  for  truth,  and  was  ready  to  start  off 
"  prospecting,"  or  searching  among  the  neighbor 
ing  ravines,  and  leave  the  bar  to  those  who  claim 
ed  it.  Colcord  hesitated  between  the  father  and 
son.  .  Sam  talked  with  the  miners  by  whom  he 
worked  steadily  all  day,  many  of  whom  had  ex 
plored  the  whole  gold  region.  They  told  him 
that  the  gold  of  the  Yuba  was  the  purest,  and 
in  the  end  was  sure  to  make  a  safe  return. 
Many  of  the  camps  were  unhealthy  from  chills, 
and  more  wasting  diseases,  and  those  who  roved 
from  place  to  place  were  sure  to  lose  as  much 
time  and  strength  on  the  road,  or  in  days  and 
days  of  vain  search,  as  they  made  by  their  most 
fortunate  discoveries.  These  rough,  hard  men, 
all  seemed  to  like  the  cheerful,  industrious  looj, 
and  showed  him  many  a  kindness,  that  was  the 
more  pleasant  because  unexpected.  They  taught 
him  the  easiest  way  to  detect  and  separate  the 
fine  particles  of  gold  in  the  pans  of  earth  dug 
up  from  the  river's  bed,  and  here,  as  well  as  at 
home,  he  saw  that  much  was  gained  by  doing 
things  the  right  way,  instead  of  wasting  time  in 
experiments. 


130     "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;" 

At  first  he  was  employed  to  carry  earth  from 
where  the  men  were  throwing  it  up  in  piles  with 
shovels  and  spades,  to  the  cradle,  or  gold  washer, 
in  which  it  was  cleansed.  This  was  a  much 
more  simple  affair  than  the  complicated  ma 
chine  Mr.  Gilman  had  bought  under  that  name. 
It  was  something  the  shape  of  the  old-fashioned 
cherry  wood  cradle  in  which  he  had  been  rocked  to 
sleep,  but  was  built  of  rough  boards,  and  in  length 
would  have  accommodated  a  man  better  than  a 
baby.  One  end  was  left  open  ;  in  the  other  was 
fixed  a  shallow  iron  pan,  pierced  with  holes. 
In  this  the  dirt  was  thrown,  the  water  poured 
over  it,  and  as  the  cradle  was  rocked  the  gold 
fell  through,  and  being  heavier  than  the  dirt  re 
mained  in  the  bottom,  caught  between  the  bars 
of  wood  placed  across  it.  As  it  needed  several 
persons  to  manage  a  cradle  properly,  others  work 
ing  on  their  own  account  washed  out  the  gold  in 
an  ordinary  tin  pan,  such  as  they  had  brought 
with  them. 

Some  of  the  more  successful  miners  hired  the 
Indians,  who  were  attracted  to  their  camp,  to 
work  for  them  at  these  cradles.  Sam  was  very 
much  amused  at  their  odd  ways,  and  careless, 


OR,    THE    YOUNG    CALIFOBNIAN.  131 

simple  habits.  They  had  no  idea  of  laying  up, 
or  saving  any  thing  for  themselves.  So  that  they 
had  enough  to  eat,  and  could  purchase  any  trifle 
they  took  a  fancy  to  among  the  possessions  of  the 
miners,  it  was  all  they  seemed  to- care  for.  Sam's 
first  ounce  was  made  by  exchanging  for  it  a  fan 
ciful  worsted  cap  he  had  picked  up  at  sea,  from 
the  stores  of  his  friend  Jackson,  the  red  tassel 
having  fascinated  his  new  work-fellow.  The 
natives  seemed  much  more  like  children  than 
grown  up  men,  just  as  he  had  read  of  them 
in  books  of  travel.  He  did  not  think  they  came 
up  to  his  idea  of  the  North  American  Indians, 
found  by  the  first  settlers  on  the  Atlantic  coast. 
To  Ben  and  himself,  King  Philip  and  his  fol 
lowers  had  always  seemed  finely  formed,  stern  and 
resolute  braves, — it  would  be  hard  to  transform 
the  thoughtless,  degraded  Californian  natives 
into  warriors,  even  in  imagination. 

Mrs.  Gilman  might  well  think  anxiously  of 
her  absent  son,  for  hard  work  was  not  by  any 
means  the  worst  he  had  to  bear.  He  could  get 
along  well  enough  in  the  daytime,  though  his 
back  ached  with  stooping  in  the  hot  sun,  or  his 
limbs  were  chilled  by  standing  almost  up  to  the 


132     "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;" 

waist  in  water.  It  was  pleasant  in  the  early 
morning  to  watch  the  sunshine  drive  away  the 
dense  masses  of  shadow  from  this  mountain 
gorge,  striking  the  tents  and  the  bed  of  the 
stream  with  glancing  rays, — to  listen  to  the  hum 
of  voices,  and  the  ringing  stroke  of  those  at 
work  among  the  rocks.  When  the  heat  became 
intense,  and  his  work  more  severe,  there  was  a 
never-ceasing  pleasure  in  dreams  of  home,  and 
wondering  about  the  changes  that  had  been,  or 
would  be.  He  could  see  the  ever  dear  mother's 
face,  and  Abby's  teasing  ways,  and  Hannah,  more 
quiet,  but  not  so  dear  to  him  as  "  little  Chunk  " 
— his  favorite  nickname  for  his  chubby  playmate. 
And  then  he  was  always  planning  their  return  ; 
how  he  would  leave  father  to  come  on  in  the 
stage,  and  he  would  hurry  on  from  the  last  stop 
ping  place.  He  would  be  so  grown,  and  brown, 
and  altered,  that  Mooney  would  not  know  him 
as  he  went  by  the  tavern,  nor  even  Ben  standing 
at  the  post-office  door.  But  he  could  not  wait 
to  talk  to  them  with  the  little  brown  house  in 
sight.  There  would  be  his  mother  sewing  by 
the  window, — but  she  would  look  up  as  if  she 
had  never  seen  him  before,  and  Abby  would  an-* 


OK,  THE    YOUNG    CALIFORNIAN.  133 

swer  his  knock,  while  he  asked  the  way  to  Squire 
Merrill's.  His  mother  would  start  when  she 
heard  his  voice,  and  come  out  into  the  entry,  and 
then  he  could  not  keep  in  any  longer,  but  say, 
"  don't  you  know  me,  mother  ?" — in  a  voice  all 
choked,  and — here  the  dream  was  broken  by  the 
signal  for  quitting  work,  and  weary  enough  he 
would  go  back  to  their  camping  ground  to  find 
his  father  fretful  and  discontented,  or  perhaps 
bearing  Colcord's  abuse,  which  Sam  dared  not 
resent,  though  it  made  his  very  blood  boil. 

His  day's  work  was  not  yet  over  ;  not  until 
he  had  collected  brush  and  dry  sticks  in  the  ra 
vine  to  cook  the  evening  meal ;  mixed  the  cakes 
of  flour  and  water — even  this  was  costly  fare — 
stewed  the  jerked  beef,  or  boiled  the  coffee,  if 
they  were  so  fortunate  as  to  have  any.  His  own 
share  was  eaten  while  trying  to  keep  peace  be 
tween  the  two  men,  who  quarrelled  incessantly 
over  their  plans  and  gains,  especially  when  there 
was  any  liquor  to  be  obtained  at  the  shanty, 
which  furnished  them  with  food  at  enormous 
prices. 

They  had  agreed  to  work  their  claim  on  equal 
shares,  Sam  proving  that  he  could  earn  as  much 


134     "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS 


as  either  of  them  in  the  course  of  the  day,  by 
his  steady  industry  and  greater  skill.  He  did 
not  think  of  claiming  any  part  for  himself.  He 
was  working  for  his  father,  and  his  father  was 
working  for  "  mother  and  the  girls/' — it  was  all 
the  same  thing.  But  Colcord  was  constantly 
quarrelling  about  this.  He  said  the  partnership 
was  between  himself  and  Mr.  Gilman,  and  they 
ought  to  share  equally.  Every  fresh  outbreak, 
Sam  was  in  hopes  they  would  separate.  He  did 
not  care  how  hard  they  worked,  so  they  could 
keep  peace.  He  was  frightened  at  the  wicked 
feeling  of  hate,  that  would  come  into  his  mind, 
towards  this  man,  who  had  been  the  cause  of  so 
much  disgrace  and  trouble  to  his  father  ;  and  he 
was  haunted  by  the  fear  that  it  would  end  in 
bloodshed  between  them.  Sleeping  or  awake 
this  fear  followed  him.  He  often  dreamed  that 
he  saw  Colcord  standing  over  his  father  in  sleep, 
with  a  face  made  horrible  by  passion,  and  lift 
ing  an  iron  bar,  or  pick,  to  strike  him  dead. 
Humors  of  murder  and  robbery  came  from  every 
part  of  the  country  :  the  curse  of  avarice  seemed 
to  rest  upon  it. 

Mr.  Gilman,  who  might  have  lived  in  peace 


OR,   THE    YOUNG   CAI4FORNIAN.  135 

and  plenty  in  his  own  house,  among  his  own  fields, 
had  come  to  work  like  a  slave  ;  to  bear  such  fa 
tigue  as  the  lowest  New  England  farm-laborer 
never  imagines,  and  the  tyranny  of  a  man  he 
hated  and  despised.  Yet  he  was  one  among 
hundreds  on  the  slopes,  or  in  the  ravines  of  the 
great  Sierra,  who  had  thrown  away  competency, 
and  the  love  and  comforts  of  a  happy  home,  for 
a  life  that  the  prodigal  son  could  not  have  ac 
cepted  in  his  greatest  need,  To  many  of  them 
repentance,  when  it  came,  was  not  less  bitter,  but 
the  return  to  a  father's  house,  with  its  plenty 
and  its  affection,  impossible. 

Eurnors  of  a  new  discovery  higher  up  the 
river,  excited  Colcord's  grasping  disposition,  just 
as  their  claim  was  beginning  to  make  a  yield  that 
even  experienced  miners  called  remarkable. 
Wonderful  stories  of  "pockets,"  holding  a  pound 
of  clear  gold,  and  lumps  weighing  almost  as 
much,  were  in  busy  circulation ;  and  many  of 
the  oldest  settlers  of  Larkin's  Bar  emigrated  on 
the  first  report.  If  Colcord  had  not  wanted  to 
go,  Mr.  Gilman  would  have  insisted  on  it, — but 
they  happened  to  be  more  at  variance  than  ever, 
about  a  disputed  loss  at  cards,  and  Mr.  Gilman 


136     "  ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS  ;" 

obstinately  opposed  the  plan.  Colcord  was 
dogged, — but  offered  to  settle  the  matter  by  sell 
ing  his  share  of  the  claim,  at  a  most  enormous 
sum.  He  had  no  idea  Mr.  Grilman  would  agree 
to  it,  knowing  very  well  that  it  was  almost  every 
cent  they  had  saved.  Just  at  that  moment  Mr. 
Gilman  would  have  thrown  away  every  thing  in 
his  old  pride  and  obstinacy,  and  though  Sam  saw 
what  an  unjust  demand  it  was,  he  begged  his 
father  to  consent  to  it.  And  in  this  way,  when 
he  had  almost  given  up  all  hope  of  better  times, 
or  ever  saving  enough  from  the  drinking  and 
gambling  Colcord  always  contrived  to  draw  Mr. 
Gilman  into,  Sam  found  himself  his  father's  sole 
companion  and  adviser. 

In  all  his  California  perils  and  adventures, 
that  boy  never  felt  a  greater  relief,  than  when 
he  lost  sight  of  Colcord.  He  hoped  it  was  for 
the  last  time.  He  thought  of  the  Old  Man  of 
the  Sea,  who  had  proved  such  a  troublesome  ac 
quaintance  to  Sinbad,  and  his  father  laughed  as 
he  had  not  done  for  many  a  day  when  he  heard 
the  comparison.  It  was  a  happy  moment  for 
Sam,  when  his  father  cheerfully  shouldered  his 
shovel  and  said. 


OR,   THE    YOUNG    CALIFORNIAN.  137 

"  Well,  Sammy,  as  we've  shaken  him  off,  at 
a  pretty  considerable  price,  we  shall  have  to  work 
all  the  harder  to  make  up  for  it.  I  guess  your 
mother  won't  be  sorry  though,  if  we  do  have  to 
stay  a  year  longer*  on  the  strength  of  it." 

Since  they  came  to  the  mines,  Mr.  Oilman 
had  hardly  ever  spoken  of  home,  and  Sam  took 
what  he  said,  as  a  sign  of  "the  good  time 
coming." 

At  last  it  did  begin  to  seem  as  if  Mrs.  Gil- 
man's  trust  and  hope  would  have  its  reward. 
Her  husband  was  right  in  thinking  she  would  be 
willing  to  have  them  stay  longer,  when  she 
found  out  Colcord  had  left  them.  She  did  not 
hear  of  it  until  three  months  afterwards,  for  the 
cheerful,  affectionate  letter,  which  Sam  coaxed 
his  father  into  writing,  had  a  long  and  wander 
ing  journey  to  San  Francisco,  in  the  team  of  the 
trader  to  whose  charge  it  was  given.  There 
was  no  weekly  mail,  as  there  is  now,  uniting  the 
nterests  and  the  lives  of  the  two  coasts.  The 
short,  travel-stained  letter,  was  received  with  a 
welcome  only  less  glad  than  would  have  been 
given  to  the  dear  exiles  themselves. 

A  new  love  and  interest  grew  up   between 


138     "  ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS  ;" 

the  father  and  son.  They  toiled  cheerfully  all 
day  side  by  side.  Mr.  Oilman  resumed  his  old 
good  nature,  and  was  in  better  spirits  than  Sam 
had  ever  seen  him.  He  was  ready  with  a  joke 
and  laugh,  at  the  many  amusing  incidents  of 
their  wild  life,  and  half  civilized  companions. 
Every  body  threw  off  the  artificial  manners  of 
city  life,  at  the  mines.  Never  was  there  such  an 
odd  assembly  gathered  together.  The  rough 
western  farmer  was  in  partnership  with  a  young 
man  just  out  of  college,  or  who  had  danced  the 
polka  at  Saratoga  or  Newport  the  year  before. 
They  troubled  themselves  very  little  about 
dress,  and  any  one  who  had  never  heard  of  the 
Californian  gold  mines,  would  have  thought 
them  a  race  by  themselves,  with  a  national  cos 
tume  of  well  worn  trousers  and  red  flannel 
shirts,  who  were  under  a  vow  never  to  shave  or 
submit  to  the  modern  operation  of  hair  cutting. 
In  only  one  thing  was  Mr.  Grilman  unlike 
himself.  "  Easy  come,  easy  go" — was  the 
principle  on  which  most  of  the  miners  acted.  It 
seemed  folly  to  be  careful  about  small  sums, 
when  there  was  so  much  to  be  had  for  the  dig 
ging,  and  not  taking  care  of  the  "  ounces,"  the 


139 


"  pounds  "  soon  disposed  of  themselves.  After 
Colcord  disappeared,  the  very  spirit  of  avarice 
seemed  to  take  hold  of  Mr.  Gilman.  He  scarcely 
allowed  himself  time  to  sleep  or  eat.  They  had 
purchased  a  tent  of  some  departing  miner  be 
fore  Colcord  left  them,  on  the  anticipation  of  the 
rainy  season,  or  they  would  still  have  been  sleep 
ing  with  only  their  blankets  for  a  covering  after 
the  day's  fatigue. 

Mr.  Gilman's  habits  of  idleness  and  self- 
indulgence,  had  injured  his  strength  before  leav 
ing  home.  The  voyage  which  made  Sam  so* 
brown  and  hardy,  had  a  contrary  effect  on  him. 
When  Sam  was  braving  the  cold  wind  on  deck, 
or  exercising  every  nerve  and  muscle  in  climb 
ing  the  rigging,  Mr.  Gilman  slept  in  his  bunk, 
or  played  some  game  of  chance  in  the  close  air 
of  the  steerage.  He  had  never  recovered  from 
the  last  day's  exposure  on  the  plains,  and  it  was 
natural  that  this  severe  and  unaccustomed  toil 
should  have  its  effects.  Sam  did  not  know  that 
the  very  industry  at  which  he  wondered  and  re 
joiced,  was  the  effect  of  a  feverish  excitement  of 
mind  and  body  that  could  not  last.  It  seemed 
only  natural  that  his  father  should  exert  him- 


140     "  ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS  ;" 

self  to  the  utmost,  to  get  home  again.  Mr. 
Gilman  appeared  almost  afraid  Sam  should 
know  the  amount  they  had  collected.  In  one 
month  after  Colcord  left,  they  had  more  than 
made  up  the  amount  paid  to  him,  and  Mr.  Gil 
man  was  never  tired  of  calculating  it  to  himself. 
He  seemed  to  grudge  the  smallest  remittance  to 
his  family,  telling  Sam  it  was  "  all  for  them  in 
the  end,  every  cent/'  when  he  began  to  talk 
about  sending  home  to  his  mother  for  the  win 
ter,  as  they  had  promised.  It  was  always  to  be 
done  by  the  next  opportunity,  but  opportunities 
passed,  and  Mrs.  Gilman  was  looking  forward  to 
a  penniless  winter,  while  her  husband  was 
hoarding  nearly  two  thousand  dollars,  on  the 
banks  of  the  Yuba. 


OR,   THE    YOUNG    CALIFORNIAN.  141 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE    FATHER    AND    SON. 

SAM  was  always  up  at  the  earliest  light,  and 
busied  himself  about  the  tent,  preparing  break 
fast,  which  was  generally  ready  before  Mr.  Gil- 
man  woke.  The  first  warning  he  had  of  his  fa 
ther's  illness  was  seeing  him  toss  restlessly  on 
the  earthen  floor  of  their  tent,  moaning  and 
muttering  in  his  sleep. 

"  I'd  lie  by  to-day,  if  I  was  you,  father" — he 
said,  bringing  a  tin  cup  of  coffee,  as  Mr.  Gilman 
sat  up  with  a  start,  and  looked  wildly  around 
him.  "  I  can  wash  that  pile  out  alone,  and 
to-morrow's  Sunday.  One  day's  rest  will  set 
you  right  up  again." 

"  Who's  talking  about  resting  !  I  don't 
want  rest  !  I  ain't  sick,  I  tell  you,  I  ain't  sick, 
who  said  I  was  ?" 


142     "  ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS  ;" 

Sam  was  still  more  alarmed  at  the  quick,  al 
most  fierce,  manner  in  which  his  father  spoke. 
"  Nobody  said  so,  sir,"  he  answered  as  quietly 
as  he  could.  " "  Only  you  know  how  tired  you 
were  last  night,  and  you  talked  some  in  your 
sleep." 

"  Did  I  ?  What  did  I  say  ?  "  Mr.  Gilman 
began  dressing  with  trembling  hands,  the  mat 
ted  hair  falling  over  his  thin,  sunburnt  face, 
and  his  blood-shot  eyes  glaring  around  the 
tent,  with  the  wildness  of  fever.  "  What  did  I 
say,  Sam — why  don't  you  answer  me  ?  Did  I 
tell  you  somebody  had  stolen  every  cent  ? 
Don't  let  them  know  it,  Sam,  the  rest  of  them, 
will  you  ?  I  mean  it  shall  be  two  thousand  dol 
lars  before  the  week's  out.  Some  rascal  or  other 
will  track  it  yet — I  know  they  will.  There's 
Tucker,  don't  tell  him  ;  he  wanted  to  know  yes 
terday,  how  things  stood.  His  pile  don't  grow 
so  fast  just  by  hard  work, — yes,  it's  all  gone, 
every  cent — ain't  it  hard,  Sam  ?  " 

"  I  guess  your  mistaken,  father,"  Sam  said, 
soothingly.  "  It  was  all  right  last  night,  don't 
you  remember  ?  If  I  was  you,  I'd  just  drink 
some  coffee  and  lay  down  awhile — you'll  remem- 


143 


ber  all  about  it   by-and-by.      It  ain't  time   to 
go  to  work  yet,  any  way." 

But  Mr.  Gil  man  would  not  be  persuaded  to 
lie  quietly.  He  insisted  on  following  Sam  to  the 
pile  of  earth  they  had  prepared  for  washing  out, 
and  plunged  knee-deep  into  the  water,  as  if  the 
coolness  would  take  way  the  fever  heat.  It  was 
the  very  worst  thing  he  could  have  done,  for  the 
fever  was  followed  by  chills,  and  though  he  worked 
more  than  an  hour  with  unnatural  strength,  it 
left  him  at  once,  and  he  laid  down  as  helpless  as 
a  child,  in  the  very  glare  of  a  hot  sun. 

He  had  been  muttering  to  himself  all  the 
while,  and  his  wild  gestures  drew  the  notice  of 
those  working  around  him.  Sam  was  bending 
over  his  father  almost  as  despairingly  as  he  had 
done  on  the  plains,  trying  to  rouse  him,  when  he 
heard  some  one  say — 

"  I  thought  the  old  man  needed  looking  after 
the  last  two  or  three  days.  Bear  a  hand,  and 
we'll  carry  him  where  he  can  lie  more  like  a 
Christian." 

It  was  a  young  man  Sam  liked  best  of  any 
in  the  camp.  He  was  a  general  favorite  ;  for, 
with  his  careless  manner,  and  rough  ways,  there 


144     "  ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS  ;" 

was  an  unselfish,  generous  temper,  shown  in 
numberless  good  turns,  to  those  less  experienced 
or  less  fortunate  than  himself.  Nobody  knew 
his  real  name,  but  they  all  called  him  "  Major." 
His  costume  was  rather  peculiar,  even  for  the 
mines,  his  red  flannel  drawers  and  shirt  being 
girt  by  a  crimson  military  sash.  For  the  six 
weeks  since  his  arrival  at  Larkin's  Bar,  he  had 
not  been  guilty  of  the  extravagance  of  a  pair  of 
pantaloons ;  it  was  the  only  economy,  however, 
that  could  be  set  down  to  his  credit,  as  the  store 
keeper  could  testify.  His  eyes  and  teeth  were 
almost  all  that  could  be  seen  of  his  face,  a  mass 
of  brown,  waving  hair  falling  over  his  broad 
forehead,  and  his  heavy  beard  reaching  almost 
to  his  sash  ;  but  the  eyes  had  always  a  good-na 
tured  smile,  and  his  teeth  were  even  and  brilliant 
ly  white. 

"  Well,  you're  not  as  heavy  as  you  might  be, 
are  you,  neighbor  ?  "  he  said,  lifting  Mr.  Gilman, 
as  if  he  had  been  a  child,  when  he  found  he  was 
unable  to  assist  himself.  Sam  followed  with  a 
brandy-flask,  some  one  had  brought  forward  ; 
brandy  was  both  food  and  medicine  to  most  of 
thorn.  He  had  never  seen  severe  illness  before, 


OB,   THE    YOUNG   CALIFORNIAN.  145 

and  was  entirely  ignorant  of  whaj^  ought  to  be 
done.  There  was  no  physician  within  miles  of 
them,  and  no  medicine  except  stimulants,  if  there 
had  been.  The  brandy  was,  perhaps,  the  best 
thing  Mr.  Gilman  could  have  taken  just  then 
— so  weak  and  exhausted  ;  but  when  the  fever 
came  back  at  night,  more  violent  .than  ever,  Sam 
could  only  bathe  his  forehead  and  hands  with 
cold  water,  while  he  listened  to  his  wild  ravings. 
The  gold  seemed  to  haunt  Mr.  Gilman  the 
whole  time.  He  assured  Sam,  over  and  over 
again,  that  it  was  all  stolen,  every  cent  of  it,  in 
the  most  pitiful  tone,  and  then  the  expression  of 
his  face  changed  to  cunning,  and  he  would 
whisper — "  We'll  cheat  them  all,  Sammy,  Tuck 
er  and  the  rest.  I  guess  your  mother  can  get 
along,  don't  you  ?  She  knows  how  to  manage, 
and  Abby's  a  smart  one.  I  guess  we  won't  send 
just  now  ;  you  don't  mean  to  make  me,  do  you, 
Sammy  ?  It  might  get  lost,  and  none  of  us 
would  be  better  off,  would  we  ?  " — or  hours  of 
lethargy  followed,  from  which  it  was  impossible 
to  rouse  him,  the  convulsive  motion  of  his  hands, 
or  his  vacant,  rolling  eyes,  terrifying  the  solitary 
boy. 

7 


146     "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;" 

The  minej^  came  to  offer  any  service,  with 
their  sincere,  hearty  kindness,  but  there  was 
nothing  to  be  done,  and  their  time  was  too  pre 
cious  to  be  wasted.  The  Major  came  oftener 
than  any  of  the  rest,  and  all  that  he  advised 
Sam  tried  to  do.  It  was  a  relief  to  be  busy 
about  something,  for  though  he  did  not  think  his 
father's  life  was  in  danger,  it  was  very  hard  to 
see  him  suffer  so.  The  Major  talked  as  encour 
agingly  as  he  could,  and  told  him  not  to  be  down 
hearted  ;  but  the  next  week  dragged  very  slow 
ly,  and  he  could  not  help  being  discouraged,  as 
the  fever  and  chills  continued.  Mr.  Gilrnan's 
frame  wasted,  and  his  sunken  eyes  and  haggard 
face  were  painful  to  look  at,  even  when  at  rest, 
— and  then  came  that  last  awful  change,  which 
all  but  the  love-^blinded  watcher  had  foreseen  from 
the  first. 

Poor,  lonely  boy  !  He  could  not  believe  it 
was  death,  though  the  wan,  shadowy  look  startled 
him,  as  he  stooped  down  to  moisten  the  parched 
lips  with  water.  He  left  the  sick  man  alone  for 
the  first  time,  while  he  went  to  call  assistance, 
for  night  was  coming,  and  he  thought  something 
might  be  done  or  wanted  before  daylight. 


147 


It  was  too  late  for  earthly  help.  The  men 
knew  it  was  death,  they  were  only  too  familiar 
with  that  fixed  and  rigid  expression.  They 
spoke  in  low  voices  to  each  other,  and  did  all 
that  was  to  be  done,  almost  as  tenderly  as  wo 
men,  thinking,  perhaps,  that  their  turn  might 
come  soon.  Sam  watched  them,  following  every 
motion,  but  he  did  not  hear  half  they  said  to 
him,  or  scarcely  understand  what  they  were  do 
ing.  The  shock  was  too  sudden  for  boyish  grief 
or  fear. 

They  went  away  again  when  all  was  ar 
ranged  for  the  simple  burial ;  for  even  the  kind- 
hearted  young  man  who  had* been  with  him 
most,  felt  it  was  best  to  leave  the  boy  alone. 
The  moonlight  came  in  through  the  opening  of 
the  tent,  and  made  every  thing  dimly  visible,  as 
he  sat  on  the  ground,  by  that  stiff,  motionless 
form.  He  put  his  hands  over  his  face,  and 
tried  to  think.  His  father  was  dead.  He  had 
heard  them  say  so.  His  mother's  husband, — 
Abby's  father — Hannah's  father  !  They  could 
not  see  him  again.  They  were  thinking  about 
his  coming  home,  and  they  would  look  for  him, 
but  it  was  no  use.  He  felt  it  would  kill  his  mo- 


148      " ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;" 

ther,  when  she  came  to  know  about  it,  and  it 
seemed  us  if  he  could  hear  Abby's  passionate 
crying,  and  sobs,  when  she  heard  the  dreadful 
news.  She  had  always  been  her  father's  fa 
vorite,  without  any  jealousy  from  the  others, 
since  the  first  moment  that  her  soft  baby  arms 
were  wound  around  his  neck. 

He  wished  that  it  was  him,  instead  of  his  fa 
ther,  who  had  gone,  since  one  of  them  must  die  ; 
it  would  not  have  made  half  so  much  difference 
at  home.  Then  he  lifted  up  his  head  from  be 
tween  his  knees,  and  looked  at  his  father's  face 
again, — only  to  sink  down  and  rock  his  body 
slowly,  as  he  thought  on,  and  on. 

If  his  father  had  died  at  home,  how  different 
it  would  have  been.  The  whole  neighborhood 
would  have  known  Mr.  Gilman  had  a  fever.  The 
doctor  and  the  minister,  and  his  mother,  would 
have  been  by,  and  he  might  have  known  them, 
and  talked  about  Heaven,  and  some  one  would 
have  prayed. 

Then  Sam  thought,  what  was  living,  after 
all,  and  what  use  was  it  to  come  into  the  world 
so  full  of  trouble  ?  Perhaps  the  thought  was  a 
prayer,  for  the  answer  came  in  the  recollection 


149 

of  many  things  that  he  had  read  and  studied  in 
his  Bible.  His  mother  had  explained  to  them 
again  and  again,  how  Our  Father  in  Heaven  per 
mits  us  to  have  trials  and  troubles  as  long  as  we  live, 
so  that  we  shall  not  forget  there  is  a  better  and  a 
higher  life.  And  there  every  one  is  told  so  plainly 
what  is  right  and  what  is  wrong  ;  those  who  do 
right  being  happy,  even  in  sickness  or  poverty.  It 
was  only  natural  in  Sam  to  think  for  an  instant, 
how  much  better  it  would  have  been  for  them 
all  if  his  father  had  been  as  good  and  contented 
as  their  mother  was,  but  that  feeling  was  lost  in 
the  bitter  one,  that  it  was  all  over  now,  life  was 
ended,  nothing  could  be  changed. 

"  Oh,  mother,  mother,  mother,"  the  boy 
groaned,  and  he  longed,  as  if  his  heart  was 
breaking,  to  lay  his  head  on  her  knee,  and  look 
up  for  comfort  to  her  face,  as  he  had  often  done 
in  his  childish  troubles.  "  Dear,  dear  mother  !" 
and  the  tears  came  at  last,  raining  through  his 
fingers,  and  taking  away  that  dull  stupor  of 
pain  from  his  heart.  He  was  exhausted  with 
his  long  and  anxious  watch,  and  a  strange  hea 
viness  came  over  him,  which  he  struggled 
against  in  vain.  He  did  not  mean  to  sleep,  but 


150     "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;"* 

he  must  have  done  so,  for  he  roused  himself  up 
and  looked  around  with  a  sohbing  start.  He 
had  not  forgotten  that  his  father  was  lying  dead 
beside  him,  that  he  was  keeping  watch  for  the 
last  time — but  he  thought  he  had  heard  a 
stealthy  footstep  outside  the  tent,  and  that  the 
shadow  of  a  man  fell  across  the  entrance.  But 
no  one  came,  and  there  was  no  sound  but  the 
fretting  of  the  river,  as  the  moon  sank  behind 
the  hills,  and  left  him  in  darkness  and  solitude. 

There  was  not  time  for  grieving  over  the 
dead,  or  for  more  than  the  simplest  burial  rites, 
in  that  rude  mountain  life. 

The  men  came  again,  at  earliest  light,  and 
found  the  boy  sitting  where  they  had  left  him, 
his  long  hair  falling  over  his  face,  bowed  down 
upon  his  knee.  Sam  understood  why  they  had 
come,  and  rose  to  follow  them,  though  no  one 
spoke  a  word  to  him,  as  they  wrapped  Mr.  Gil- 
man  in  the  blanket  on  which  he  laid,  and  car 
ried  him  away.  His  was  not  the  only  grave  they 
had  prepared  at  midnight,  for  other  low  mounds 
of  earth  marked  a  little  slope,  half  way  up  the 
bluff.  And  here  they  laid  him,  with  kindly,  not 
loving,  hands, — he  was  a  stranger  to  them  all, 


OR,  THE    YOUNG    CALIFORNIAN.  151 

and  but  one  solitary  mourner  stood  near.  There 
was  no  audible  prayer,  though  no  one  can  tell 
what  thoughts  or  wishes  passed  through  their 
minds,  as  the  men  stood  silently  for  a  moment, 
with  uncovered  heads,  when  their  task  was 
finished.  It  was  but  a  moment,  and  then  their 
voices,  and  their  footsteps  sounded  down  the 
hill,  as  quick  and  as  careless,  as  if  death  could 
not  reach  them* 

Sam  thought  they  had  all  gone,  but  some 
one  came  and  laid  a  hand  on  his  shoulder.  It 
was  the  Major,  who  said  cheerfully — 

"  Come,  come,  my  boy,  don't  give  up;  you've 
got  a  long  life  before  you  yet." 

"  A  hard  one,"  Sam  said,  turning  away  his 
face  even  from  those  friendly  eyes,  and  leaning 
his  head  against  a  tree.  No  wonder  his  voice 
sounded  hopeless,  for  he  was  yet  a  boy,  and  thou 
sands  of  miles  from  any  one  who  knew  him  or 
cared  for  him,  in  the  first  great  trouble  of  his 
fife. 

"It's  hard  enough,  anyhow^  for  that  matter, 
but  there's  no  use  crying  over  it.  I  suppose 
you  think  I'm  a  jolly  dog — most  people  do. — 
Well,  I  haven't  seen  the  day  for  these  six  years, 


152     "  ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS  ;" 

| 

that  I  couldn't  thank  any  body  who'd  help  me 
out  of  it.  Let's  sit  down  here  a  minute  and 
talk  it  over.  Do  you  suppose  any  body  is  really 
happy  ? " 

"  Any  body  ! "  Sam  repeated  wonderingly, 
but  he  sat  down  on  the  grass  beside  his  stranger 
friend,  who  began  hacking  the  root  of  the  tree 
with  his  knife  as  he  talked.  He  forgot  his  own 
troubles,  wondering  what  such  a  good-hearted, 
careless  man  could  be  miserable  about. 

But  the  Major  did  not  seem  disposed  to  talk 
any  more  about  himself;  only  he  said — 

"  I  never  had  a  brother.  I  don't  know  how 
I'd  feel  towards  one  ;  but  if  there's  any  thing  I 
can  do  for  you  let  me  know  it.  I'd  advise  you 
to  go  home,  if  you've  got  enough  to  take  you 
there.  California's  not  the  place  for  boys  like 
you." 

"I  don't  know  that  I  am  different  from 
other  boys,"  Sam  began  to  say. 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  are,"  the  other  interrupted. 
"  You  don't  swear,  and  you  don't  drink,  you 
don't  gamble, — now  I'd  like  to  know  what  other 
boy  of  your  age,  would  stand  a  voyage  round  the 
Horn,  and  three  months  in  California,  without 


SAM  AND  THE  MAJOK. 
Page  151. 


OR,  THE    YOUNG    CALIFORNIAN.  153 

being  as  bad  as  the  rest  of  us.  Boys  are  worse 
I  think." 

"  Not  if  they  had  such  a  mother  as  I've  got  \" 
and  then  Sam  thought  that  his  mother  was  all 
now, — and  his  heart  sank  down  again,  for  there 
was  the  new-made  grave, — he  was  fatherless  and 
she  a  widow. 

"  I  wish  I  had  a  mother — I  wish  I  had  any 
body  to  care  for  me,  or  any  thing  to  live  for.  Go 
home,  and  take  care  of  your  mother,  my  boy — 
stay  by  her  as  long  as  she  lives.  You  ! — yes,  go 
home  and  comfort  her.  See  what  gold's  done 
for  your  father — see  what  it's  doing  for  all  of  us, 
here  in  the  mines.  We  live  like  savages,  and 
we  die  like  sheep.  Your  father  was  taken  care 
of,  and  buried  decently,  that  ought  to  make  you 
thankful.  I've  seen  men  lie  down  by  the  road 
side,  with  no  one  to  give  them  a  drop  of  water — 
with  racking  pain  and  thirst.  And  they'd  die  so, 
and  nobody  knew  even  their  names,  or  where 
they  came  from.  You  must  go  home." 

Sam  had  not  thought  of  what  he  was  to  do  ; 
but  he  did  not  need  such  urging  to  decide.  He 
could  go  now, — -he  was  free,  his  labor  of  love  was 
ended  !  He  almost  caught  his  breath  with  the 


154    "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;" 

recollection,  that  there  was  nothing  to  keep  him 
one  day  longer  away  from  all  the  comforts  of  life, 
and  among  bad  men.  He  was  almost  happy 
again — even  when  looking  back  to  his  father's 
grave,  for  would  he  not  leave  death,  and  toil,  and 
care  behind  him,  and  have  a  home,  and  be  a  boy 
once  more  ! 

"Well,  good-bye,  if  I  never  see  you  again," 
the  Major  said,  when  he  found  the  boy  was  fairly 
roused.  Sam  had  not  noticed  till  then  that  he 
seemed  to  be  ready  for  a  journey,  and  a  pack, 
such  as  a  New-England  pedler  might  carry,  laid 
under  a  bush  near  them.  His  companion  raised 
it,  and  secured  it,  with  the  long  red  sash,  over 
his  shoulder. 

"  I'm  off,  you  see,  I  don't  know  exactly  where. 
If  I  did,  I'd  ask  you  to  travel  with  me.  You'd 
better  start  with  the  next  team  that  comes  in 
from  Sacramento,  and  try  a  steamer  this  time  if 
you  can.  I  would  anyway,  I've  had  enough  of 
the  Horn." 

It  was  a  brief,  abrupt  leave-taking,  and  Sam 
had  not  known  him  long,  yet  he  felt  as  if  the 
only  friend  he  had  in  the  country  was  gone,  as 
he  watched  the  tall  figure  disappear  over  the 


OR,    THE    YOUNG    CALIFORNIAN.  155 

bluff  above  him.  A  little  kindness  had  made 
him.  feel  a  great  interest  in  this  strange,  roving 
man.  But  there  are  many  such  in  California, 
who  seem  to  have  no  settled  plans,  and  nothing 
to  live  for,  but  the  whim  of  the  moment.  Sam 
was  thankful  even  in  his  loss,  that  he  had  so 
great  a  duty  and  pleasure  before  him,  as  to  make 
his  mother  happy,  and  take  care  of  his  sisters. 
He  was  their  only  protector  now.  He  was  learn 
ing  in  boyhood  what  some  live  a  lifetime  to  find 
out,- — that  the  greatest  happiness  we  can  ever 
have  in  this  world,  is  thinking  more  and  doing 
more  for  other  people  than  ourselves. 


156     "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;" 


CHAPTEK  XII. 

AS    WE   FORGIVE   MEN    THEIR   TRESPASSES. 

HE  came  slowly  down  the  ravine,  still  heavy 
with  shadows,  while  the  sun  was  shining  above 
him,  and  on  the  bed  of  the  river  below.  The 
tents  were  deserted  and  still,  the  men  were  al 
ready  at  work,  and  the  hum  of  voices  and  labor 
came  up  the  stream.  The  sound  brought  back 
his  thoughts  in  a  moment,  to  the  bare  reality  of 
his  position.  If  his  father  had  not  been  per 
suaded  to  come  to  California,  and  his  mother's 
anxious  fears  made  him  a  partner  in  the  scheme, 
he  would  now  have  been  lounging  about  the  old 
homestead,  thinking  himself  very  useful  and  in 
dustrious  if  he  kept  the  vegetable  garden  in  or 
der,  and  mended  broken  fences,  glad  enough  to  es 
cape  from  any  thing  that  seemed  like  work,  for 
a  game  of  ball,  or  a  blackberry  expedition. 


157 

Now  he  was  free  from  all  restraint  as  if  he 
had  been  a  man  ;  the  undisputed  possessor  of 
almost  two  thousand  dollars.  He  hurried  to 
wards  the  tent,  to  look  at  this  accumulated  treas 
ure,  not  with  any  selfish,  miserly  feeling,  hut  to 
find  out  the  exact  amount,  and  plan  how  he 
could  best  reach  home  with  it.  In  the  short  dis 
tance  he  had  still  to  go,  his  quick  thoughts  had 
sha.ped  out  a  great  deal  for  the  future.  He 
would  go  home  by  the  steamer,  and  be  the  first 
to  tell  his  mother  the  sad  news,  for  he  knew  she 
could  bear  it  better  in  the  joy  of  his  return. — 
There  would  still  be  money  enough  left  to  buy 
back  the  lost  land  they  had  parted  with,  and  the 
house,  and  something  to  get  started  with.  He 
could  manage  a  little  farm,  if  not  very  weU  at 
first,  after  a  few  years,  with  Squire  Merrill's  ad 
vice,  and  his  mother's  help.  "  Mother  was  as 
good  as  a  man,  any  day,"  he  said  to  himself. 

•  But  then  how  much  gold  there  was  yet  in 
California,  and  every  one  said  they  had  had 
wonderful  luck.  Now  he  was  here,  wouldn't  it 
be  best  to  stay  and  work  another  season,  and 
go  home  rich  !  How  the  people  would  look  up 
to  him,  and  mother  could  have  the  whole  farm. 
He  might  as  well  after  all  that  trouble  ! 


158     "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  TH AT'  GLITTERS  ;" 

It  was  a  dazzling  temptation,  home  and  love, 
comfort  and  peace, — balanced  against  the 
chances  of  being  rich  while  yet  a  boy ;  and  a 
long  life  of  ease  and  prosperity  before  him  ! 
His  step  became  slower — it  was  very  hard  to 
decide.  How  much  more  he  could  do  for  the 
girls,  the  tempter  said,  putting  on  the  most  gen 
erous  disguise ;  and  his  mother  should  live 
without  having  to  lift  her  hands  to  work.  Once 
more  his  mother  stood  between  him  and  an  evil 
choice.  How  often  had  she  told  him,  that  in 
dustry  made  people  happy,  not  idleness  ;  that  it 
kept  away  bad  thoughts,  and  left  no  time  for 
them  to  grow  into  bad  actions.  She  would  nev 
er  be  satisfied  to  fold  her  hands,  and  live  a 
useless  life.  He  knew  that  if  she  could  read  what 
was  going  on  in  his  mind,  she  would  not  think 
he  ought  even  to  hesitate.  God  had  so  far  taken 
care  of  him,  and  prospered  him,  because  he  was 
doing  his  duty.  That  duty  was  over  now,  and 
another, — to  return  to  the  mother  who  had  so 
unselfishly  devoted  him  to  it,  and  make  her 
happy, — came  plainly  before  him. 

Yes,  he  had  decided,  he  would  go  home. 
The  empty  tent  seemed  to  send  a  chill  over  him, 


159 


as  he  went  into  it.  The  silence  spoke  louder 
than  words,  that  his  father  was  gone  for  ever. 
The  gold  he  had  hoarded  was  useless  now,  it 
could  not  purchase  even  one  hour's  consciousness 
at  the  last,  to  send  messages  of  love  to  his  fam 
ily,  to  ask  the  pardon  of  Heaven  for  a  mis 
spent  life.  It  was  a  mute  commentary  on  the 
fearful  question — 

What  shall  it  profit  a  man,    if  he  gain  the 
tyhole  world,  and  lose  his  own  soul  ? 

Or  what  shall  a  man  give  in  exchange  for  his 
soul  ? 

Something  like  a  dim  understanding  of  this 
came  into  his  son's  mind,  as  he  stooped  down  to 
scrape  away  the  sand  from  under  the  edge  of 
the  tent,  where  his  father  had  concealed  his 
gains.  It  was  a  precaution  very  few  of  the 
miners  took,  and  the  strangest  thing  in  all  their 
peculiar  life  was,  perhaps,  the  respect  they  all 
observed  towards  any  thing  claimed  by  another 
person.  No  matter  how  high  a  price  was  paid 
for  the  common,  indispensable  tools  and  cook 
ing  utensils,  or  how  much  a  man  might  be  in 
want  of  them,  the  owner  could  leave  his  claim 
for  days,  and  come  back  to  find  them  untouched. 


160      "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;" 

So  with  the  gold.  It  was  often  only  rolled  up 
in  their  blankets,  or  left  in  some  cup  or  pan;  un 
guarded,  except  by  the  strict  law,  made  and  en 
forced  among  themselves.  Death  was  usually  the 
instant  and  only  penalty,  before  the  Californians 
could  claim  the  protection  of  State  laws. 

Colcord's  thoroughly  mean,  avaricious  dispo 
sition  would  not  trust  to  this,  and  Mr.  Grilman, 
growing  more  miserly  every  day  after  he  left, 
went  on  concealing  the  gold,  in  the  same  way. 
Sam  had  never  even  disturbed  it  before,  but  he 
saw  his  father  lift  out  the  old  broken  kettle, 
and  pass  the  shining  scales  through  his  hands, 
only  the  night  before  he  was  taken  sick.  It 
yielded  readily  to  his  grasp,  for  it  was  scarcely 
covered  by  the  light  soil.  Sam  would  have  no 
ticed  that  the  sand  was  smoothed  less  carefully 
than  usual  by  the  sick  man's  tremulous  hands, 
before  this,  but  Mr.  Gilman  always  laid  down 
by  his  treasure,  and  one  corner  of  the  blanket 
had  covered  the  place  till  now.  No  matter — all 
precaution  was  useless — it  was  empty  ! 

Sam  could  not  believe  the  gold  was  all  gone 
at  first.  He  thought  it  might  have  been  hidden 
in  the  sand,  or  thrown  out  accidentally,  and 


OR,  THE    YOUNG   CALIFOENIAN.  161 

mixed  with  it.  He  snatched  up  the  knife  again, 
and  dug  down  deeper  still,  but  a  few  scattering 
flakes  was  all  he  found.  His  father's  ravings 
about  its  being  stolen  flashed  across  his  mind ; 
but  he  knew  that  was  only  the  wildness  of  fever, 
for  he  had  seen  it  put  there  himself.  Suddenly 
he  noticed  that  the  knife  he  still  held  was  not 
his  own,  or  his  father's.  He  had  found  it  lying 
there,  and  he  had  seen  it  before.  He  knew  it 
in  a  moment,  and  could  have  sworn  to  it  in  any 
court  in  the  land.  The  short,  slightly  curved 
blade,  the  extreme  point  snapped  off, — the  heavy 
bone  handle, — he  had  seen  Colcord  display  and 
boast  of  that  knife  too  often,  not  to  know  it 
again.  He  recollected  the  stealthy  footsteps  and 
the  man's  shadow  the  night  before,  at  the-  same 
instant.  Colcord  must  have  heard  that  his  fa 
ther  could  not  live,  and  he  knew  only  too  well 
where  to  find  all  they  possessed.  Sam  felt  that 
he  had  slept  nearly  an  hour,  for  he  remembered 
the  moon  was  almost  down  when  he  roused 
himself,  and  in  this  time,  not  content  with  liv 
ing  ruin,  Colcord  had  robbed  the  dead  ! 

Mr.  Gilman's  ravings  had  been  a  prophecy. 
"  It  was  all  gone,"  every  dollar,  and  with  it  the 


162     "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS 


bright  pictures  of  home  and  a  comfortable  inde 
pendence.  Sam  felt  this  with  a  dreadful  heart- 
sinking,  as  he  dropped  the  knife  and  rushed  out 
upon  the  beach.  His  first  impulse  was  to  call 
out  his  loss;  and  pursue  the  thief.  No  one  was 
near  him  at  the  moment,  and  he  remembered 
how  many  hours  Colcord  had  been  gone,  and  what 
would  be  his  fate  if  he  was  overtaken  by  these 
unscrupulous  dealers  of  justice,  the  miners. 

Every  thing  about  the  theft  was  so  aggravated, 
they  would  be  sure  to  hang  him  on  the  spot, — 
others  had  been  for  even  less  offences,  and  yet 
Sam  knew  that  there  was  but  one  crime  that 
made  this  less  than  murder.  The  divine  law 
has  ordained  life  to  be  taken  only  for  life. 

Oh,  it  was  very  hard — too  hard  for  him  to 
bear — whichever  way  he  turned  !  He  went  back 
to  the  tent  and  sat  and  brooded  over  every  thing, 
feeling  that  he  should  go  crazy ;  and  then  he 
started  up,  and  hurried  away  to  the  most  deso 
late  spot  he  could  find,  lest  he  should  be  tempted 
to  the  revenge  that  was  boiling  up  in  his  mind. 
And  there  he  laid  hours  and  hours,  away  from 
every  human  sight  and  sound,  battling  with  him 
self,  until  he  looked  up  despairingly  to  the  sky 


163 


above  him,  and  its  peaceful  serenity  fell  like  a 
thought  of  God  and  heaven  upon  the  tumult  of 
his  mind. 

Passion  and  revenge,  hate  and  despair  were 
arrested  by  one  thought.  "  Vengeance  is  mine, 
I  will  repay,  saith  the  Lord."  A  moment  of 
some  Sunday's  lesson,  or  it  might  have  been  only 
the  text  to  a  sermon  he  had  not  listened  to  at  the 
time  ;  no  matter  how  he  had  learned  it,  he  knew 
that  it  was  as  much  to  be  regarded  as  the  com 
mand,  "  thou  shalt  not  kill."  It  was  listened  to 
then,  but  many,  a  time  afterwards  the  struggle 
came  up  again,  and  the  self-conquest  grew  harder 
and  harder. 

It  was  well  for  him  that  the  miners  did  not 
trouble  themselves  to  pry  into  each  other's  affairs, 
and  that  Sam  knew  too  little  of  any  of  them, 
to  ask  or  expect  their  advice.  They  thought  he 
was  a  sensible  little  feUow  to  keep  on  at  work  ; 
and  called  him  a  "  queer  stick,"  for  not  wasting 
what  he  made  as  they  did.  He  was  as  indus 
trious  as  ever,  but  grew  sullen  and  moody.  How 
could  he  help  it  ?  he  was  old  before  his  time  ;  the 
very  strength  of  will  that  made  him  without  his 
knowing  it  a  moral  hero,  in  keeping  the  secret 


164     "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;" 

of  Colcord's  villany,  and  working  on  when  many 
a  man  would  have  given  up  discouraged,  was  a 
proof  of  it.  It  was  all  there,  a  natural  trait  of 
character,  but  he  might  have  grown  up  without 
its  being  called  out  in  less  eventful  life. 

Sam  toiled  on  at  the  nearly  exhausted  claim, 
for  he  had  not  the  means  to  secure  a  better  one, 
until  the  men  began  to  talk  of  emigrating,  for 
the  rainy  season,  to  the  dry  diggings.  It  was 
very  discouraging  to  work  so  very,  very  hard,  and 
deny  himself  every  thing,  with  so  little  success. 
Many  a  night  what  he  had  made  seemed  hardly 
worth  adding  to  his  little  stock.  The  disappoint 
ed  men  on  the  bar  drank  and  gamed  to  throw  off 
their  troubles,  and  he  was  often  tempted  to  do  the 
same.  Once  he  raised  the  glass  to  his  very  lips, 
— but  his  promise  was  stronger  than  the  wish  to 
drink  it ;  and  more  than  once,  night  after  night 
that  miserable  winter,  he  lingered  in  the  large 
gaming  tent,  made  alluring  by  light,  and  warmth, 
and  jovial  choruses,  and  watched  the  glittering 
piles  grow  larger  and  higher,  to  be  swept  off  by 
some  eager  looker-on.  It  seemed  so  easy  to  make 
up  losses,  by  a  single  throw  of  the  dice,  or  lucky 
turn  of  the  cards.  He  would  not  think  of  those 


165 


who  were  ruined  by  the  same  throw,  then,  but 
steal  off  through  the  dark  wet  night  to  his  own 
tent,  calling  himself  a  fool  for  hesitating  at  the  risk, 
and  resolved  to  play  the  desperate  stake  when 
another  evening  came. 

But  even  if  he  could  have  forgotten  the  warn 
ing  of  his  father's  example,  he  knew  his  mother 
never  would  receive  the  wages  of  sin,  and  it  was 
for  her,  only  for  her,  he  cared  to  hoard. 

He  often  looked  back  to  that  dismal  and 
pitied  winter  himself.  Some  of  the  miners,  from 
Larkin's  Bar,  prepared  to  leave  for  the  States,  not 
many  weeks  after  he  began  the  world  again,  con 
tented  with  what  they  had  made.  By  one  of 
them  Sam  wrote  a  short  desponding  letter  home, 
trying  to  soften  the  news  of  his  father's  death, 
and  their  new  misfortune  ;  and  then  he  left  that 
grave  in  the  wilderness,  and  followed  the  miners 
to  their  winter  encampment. 

The  heavy  rains  made  the  roads  almost  im 
passable  before  they  reached  it,  and  more  than 
one  died,  as  Mr.  Gilman  had  done,  from  fatigue 
and  exposure.  Death  in  many  forms  was  no 
longer  a  strange  sight. 

I  know  it  is  a  sad  thing  to  read  of  these  trials 


166     "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;" 

happening  to  one  so  young,  and  I  will  not  dwell 
on  the  dark  picture.  Those  who  are  reading  it 
in  their  pleasant  homes,  where  want,  and  care, 
arid  hardships  are  only  heard  of,  cannot  even 
understand  all  the  weariness  and  temptation  of 
that  winter  to  the  young  exile.  But  they  can 
thank  our  Heavenly  Father  that  their  paths  are 
made  full  of  pleasantness,  and  be  more  grateful 
for  the  comforts  around  them.  There  were  many 
days  when  the  steady  fall  of  rain, — coming  not 
in  showers  but  like  a  heavy  column, — deluged 
and  obscured  every  thing,  and  left  not  even  the 
refuge  of  hard  work,  from  home-sickness,  and 
heart-sickness.  And  then  prospects  brightened, 
and  hope  came  back  with  the  sunshine,,  as  the 
boy  worked  cheerfully  all  day  long,  untouched  by 
the  discontent  and, worse  than  all,  sickness  around 
him.  So  the  winter  wore  away,  darkness  and 
clouds,  hope  and  brighter  days  coming  and  going, 
to  many  an  exile  beside  our  young  miner,  through 
the  dry  diggings  of  California. 


OR,   THE    YOUNG   CALIFORNIA**.  167 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

FIRE. 

"  WELL,  what  now  ? "  one  of  his  neighbors 
called  out,  as  Sam  struck  his  shovel  into  the  ground 
and  turned  over  his  pan  face  downwards,  one  fine 
April  morning.  The  men  were  in  high  spirits, 
for  the  rains  were  nearly  over,  and  every  thing 
promised  a  successful  season. 

« I'm  going  to  the  States — that's  all — off  in 
the  first  boat,  and  want  to  sell  out  cheap. — 
What  "11  you  give  for  every  thing  as  it  stands, 
tent  and  all — give  us  a  bid." 

"Two  ounces;  they  ain't  much  use  now, 
the  dry  season's  coming/'  said  the  man,  concisely. 
He  had  been  sharing  the  tent  and  accommoda 
ting  himself  with  its  kitchen  department,  for  a 
weekly  sum,  since  his  arrival  at  Free  Man's  Dig 
gings,  a  month  before,  and  did  not  mind  becom 
ing  proprietor  instead  of  boarder.  It  did  not 


168      "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT . GLITTERS  ;" 

need  much  time  or  many  words  to  make  a  bar 
gain  in  those  early  days  of  California. 

"  I'll  take  it,"  from  Sam  was  all  that  was 
necessary,  and  with  this,  in  addition  to  Jiis  care 
ful  winter's  work,  he  was  the  possessor  of  nine 
hundred  dollars.  It  was  very  little, — but  it 
would  take  him  home,  and  they  could  hire  the 
old  place,  which  he  had  hoped  to  buy  back 
again.  This  hope  had  helped  him  through  many 
a  hard  day's  work.  Never  mind — it  was  not  the 
first  disappointment  he  had  met  with.  He 
could  help  his  mother  along  somehow — and  see 
her  he  must.  The  feeling  was  not  exactly  home 
sickness  ;  it  was  a  hearty  disgust  of  every  thing 
around  him.  The  monotony  of  a  miner's  life 
seemed  unbearable  that  morning,  with  the  bright 
sunshine  and  perfumed  foliage  reminding  him  of 
the  spring  at  home.  No  such  intention  as  start 
ing  for  it  had  crossed  his  mind  when  he  went 
out  as  usual.  The  fresh  wind  made  him  think 
of  what  the  farmers  were  doing  on  the  hill  sides 
of  New  England.  The  lowing  of  oxen,  the  tin 
kle  of  bells  from  the  pasture,  seemed  to  sound 
in  his  ears.  He  thought  of  the  brown  earth, 
turning  up  with  its  fresh  smell,  in  long  unbroken 


OR,    THE    YOUNG    CALIFORNIAN.  169 

furrows, — the  children  going  to  school  along  the 
road,  with  their  books  and  dinner  baskets  ! 

He  struck  down  his  shovel,  and  said  to  him 
self,  he  would  go  home  to  civilized  life,  that  was 
the  end  of  it.  He  had  enough  to  take  him  there 
and  hands  to  work  with  afterwards. 

In  two  hours  more  he  was  on  the  road  to  San 
Francisco  ;  his  gold  dust,  sewn  up  in  a  little  can 
vas  bag,  was  not  a  very  heavy  burden.  He  whis 
tled  as  he  went  along  with  a- lighter  heart  than  he 
had  had  for  many  a  day ;  and  found  himself 
onx;e  more  'floating  on  the  Sacramento,  before  he 
had  time  to  change  his  mind.  Perhaps  it  was 
just  as  well, — many  a  man  worked  on  and  on,  to 
find  himself  without  the  means  to  come  home 
when  health  and  strength  gave  out. 

Sam  did  not  "rub  his  eyes"  at  this  first 
glimpse  of  San  Francisco, — as  his  favorite  princes 
in  the  Arabian  Nights  always  used  to  when  things 
astonished  them  ;  but  it  seemed  quite  as  much 
like  the  change  of  magic,  as  any  thing  in  those 
enchanted  pages.  He  had  left,  not  a  year  ago,  a 
crowd  of  tents  scattered  along  an  open  beach,  with 
a  few  old  frame  houses,  looking  like  any  thing  but 
a  city.  Now  a  flourishing  metropolis,  with  streets, 
8 


170     "  ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS  :" 


and  stores,  and  hotels,  invaded  the  hills  and  ex 
tended  into  Happy  Valley,  where  the  smoke  of 
manufactories  was  going  steadily  up.  Ware 
houses  stood  beside  the  hay,  and  a  wharf  stretched 
out  at  the  very  spot  where  he  had  landed,  on  an 
empty  heach,  with  vessels  discharging  their  car 
goes,  as  he  had  seen  on  the  piers  and  docks  of 
New- York.  "When  he  landed  and  went  into 
the  hurry  of  the  crowd,  it  seemed  stranger  still. 
The  rough  dress  of  the  miners  was  conspicuous 
among  them,  and  he  saw  shops,  with  every  arti 
cle  of  use  and  luxury  for  sale  as  in 'the  States. 
Hotels  had  grown  up  around  the  old  Plaza,  now 
re-named  as  Portsmouth  Square  ;  and  merchants 
collected  in  the  piazzas  and  talked  of  business, 
and  "  the  markets,"  the  day's  transactions  being 
over,  as  they  would  have  done  on  the  steps  of  the 
Astor  or  the  Tremont  House. 

It  was,  indeed,  "  magic,"  but  the  magic  of 
industry  and  enterprise,  such  as  never  has  been 
heard  of  in  the  history  of  the  world.  San  Fran 
cisco  seemed  to  reverse  the  meaning  of  the  old 
proverb,  "  Home  was  not  built  in  a  day." 

Sam  went  to  bed  that  night,  one  among 
twenty  tenants  of  a  large  room  in  a  lodging 


171 


house,  near  Portsmouth  Square  ;  the  first  time 
he  had  slept  under  a  roof,  since  leaving  the 
coast.  He  was  completely  bewildered  with  all 
he  had  seen  and  heard,  and  so  tired  that  he  fell 
asleep,  in  the  midst  of  the  talking  and  confusion 
around  him  five  minutes  after  he  had  placed 
his  travelling  companion,  the  canvas  hag,  un 
der  his  head  for  safe  keeping. 

He  woke  with  a  strange  roar,  sounding 
through  his  dreams,  and  half  roused,  thought  he 
was  at  sea,  homeward  bound,  and  the  vessel 
was  nearing  breakers.  But  he  was  in  the  midst 
of  a  more  awful  storm,  than  any  which  ever 
swept  over  the  ocean.  A  thick,  choking  cloud, 
a  quick  crackling  of  fire,  a  heat  so  intense  that 
he  groped  blindly  along,  his  hands  blistering  on 
every  thing  he  touched,  were  all  around  him,  and 
he  had  scarcely  reached  the  outer  air,  when  a 
volume  of  flame  and  smoke,  red  and  dense,  burst 
through  the  adjoining  roof,  and  swept  down  on 
the  pine  building  from  which  he  had  escaped, 
with  a  shower  of  sparks  and  crash  of  falling 
timber.  The  scene  was  more  fearful,  that  no 
help  could  avail  to  check  the  advancing  flames. 
Men  worked  with  desperate  energy  to  save  their 


172     "  ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS  ;" 

goods  and  papers,  but  were  driven  back,  square 
after  square,  and  street  after  street,  by  the  rush 
and  roar  of  the  fiery  tide,  that  ran  along  the 
dry,  wooden  pavements,  like  water  forcing  a 
channel  from  the  hills,  and  sweeping  down  all 
before  it^  Some  shut  themselves  up  in  build 
ings  that  were  thought  fire-proof,  and  perished 
with  the  goods  they  had  heaped  together  for 
safety.  Men  cried,  and  wrung  their  hands  like 
women,  when  they  saw  their  property  burning 
like  tinder,  before  their  eyes,  and  the  offer  of 
boundless  rewards,  could  bring  them  no  help. 
When  noonday  came,  and  the  fury  of  the 
fiery  storm  went  down,  the  very  heart  of  the 
town  was  desolated.  Heaps  of  ashes,  and  smoul 
dering  blackened  timbers, .  only  marked  the 
places,  where  rich  warehouses  stood.  The 
crowds  of  men  were  still  there,  but  climbing 
over  ruins,  instead  of  counting  up  their  gains, 
and  among  them,  once  more  penniless,  was  the 
boy  whose  strange  history  we  are  describing. 

He  discovered  in  the  first  moment  .of  safety, 
that  he  had  left  his  gold  in  the  burning  house, 
but  saw  at  the  same  instant  how  useless  trying 
to  reach  it  would  be.  It  seemed  nothing  to 


OR,  THE    YOUNG    CALIFORNIAN.  173 

him  then,  in  the  thankfulness  for  his  own 
escape,  and  the  wild  excitement  of  the  fire.  It 
scarcely  crossed  his  mind,  as  he  worked  among 
men  who  were  losing  hundreds  of  thousands, 
plunging  in  the  thickest  smoke,  and  venturing 
on  the  edge  of  frightful  explosions,  with  almost 
reckless  courage  ;  wild  with  the  excitement  of 
the  scene.  But  that  was  all  over  now — only  the 
certainty  of  loss  remained  to  the  merchants, 
whose  warehouses  were  in  ashes,  and  the  boy, 
whose  few  hundreds  had  been  his  all. 

He  slept  on  the  ground  again  that  night 
with  only  the  sky  above  him,  and  woke  with 
the  old  heart-sickness  and  despondency  ;  as  far 
from  home  as  ever,  though  the  waves  of  the  Pa 
cific  broke  on  the  beach  before  him. 

So  many  had  been  thrown  out  of  business 
and  employment  the  day  before,  that  he  felt  it 
would  be  useless  to  seek  for  work  where  no  one 
knew  him.  He  might  earn  enough  to  carry  him 
up  to  the  mines,  perhaps,  but  he  could  not  bear 
the  thought  of  going  back  to  the  men  and  the 
employment  he  had  quitted.  It  was  like  re 
turning  to  hopeUss  slavery  ;  "  he  would  die 
first" — lie  thought,  as  he  made  his  way  among 


174     "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS 


the  piles  of  goods,  and  falling  timber,  where  men 
were  already  at  work,  clearing  away  the  ruins 
and  preparing  to  build  again,  that  business 
might  not  be  swept  out  of  their  hands.  Many 
of  these  men  had  lost  every  thing  in  the  fire  of 
December,  and  now  what  they  had  made  since 
then,  but  were  ready  to  go  on,  and  trust  once 
more  the  treacherous  element.  They  showed  a 
perseverance  equal  to  their  industry,  and  lie 
had  borne  up  bravely  before.  Business  was  go 
ing  on  the  same,  when  the  fire  had  ceased,  as  if 
nothing  had  interrupted  it.  He  met  people  hur 
rying  along  to  and  from  the  post-office,  with  let 
ters  and  papers  from  the  States.  It  was  long 
since  he  heard  a  word  from  home,  and  he  had  no 
reason  to  think  a  letter  would  be  directed  to 
him  there  ;  he  did  not  expect  any  thing  as  he 
followed  after  them,  and  inquired  among  the 
rest.  There  was  a  few  minutes'  delay,  and  he 
fell  back  among  the  little  crowd,  as  if  he  already 
had  heard  "  nothing  for  you."  No  one  would 
have  known  him  as  the  light-hearted,  cheerful, 
Yankee  boy,  who  had  battled  bravely  through 
so  much.  He  had  grown  both  taller  and  thinner 
the  past  winter.  His  clothes  were  blackened  and 


OK.    THE   YOUNG   CALIFORNIAN.  175 

scorched  by  the  fire,  his  hands  blistered,  and 
there  was  a  deep  cut  or  bruise  on  his  forehead. 
With  bodily  pain  to  bear,  and  faint  from  want 
of  food,  he  scarcely  cared  what  became  of  him. 
For  the  first  time  he  doubted  God's  help  and 
goodness,  arid  felt  as  if  he  was  given  up  to  evil 
fortune. 

The  general  mail  from  the  States  had  been 
distributed  several  days  before,  and  letters  from 
business  correspondents  in  the  interior,  were  not 
so  eagerly  looked  for.  The  space  in  front  of  the 
window  at  which  Sam  applied  was  nearly 
empty,  when  his  name  was  called,  and  to  his 
great  astonishment  a  letter  was  held  out  to 
him.  But  postage  in  those  days  was  no  trifle. 
"  Forty  cents,"  the  clerk  said,  and  Sam  had  not 
forty  farthings.  He  saw  that  it  was,  indeed,  for 
him,  and  in  his  mother's  handwriting. 

"Forty  cents,"  the  clerk  repeated  me 
chanically,  thinking  he  had  not  understood. 

"Oh,  dear,  what  shall  I  do  !  "  burst  out  invol 
untarily,. — that  precious  letter  lying  within  his 
reach,  yet  it  might  as  well  have  been  in  the 
New- York  post-office,  for  want  of  a  single  half 
dollar. 


176     "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTEKS;" 

"  Do  about  what?  Why  don't  you  take  your 
letter  and  be  off  ;  and  give  somebody  else  a 
chance  ?" 

The  words  were  rough,  but  the  voice  was 
cheerful  and  kindly.  Sam  turned  with  a  pite- 
ously  anxious  look  ;  his  voice  trembled,  and  his 
hands  shook  as  he  pointed  to  the  letter. 

"  Oh,  sir — it  is  from  home,  from  my  mother/' 
he  said,  "  and  I  haven't  a  dollar,  not  a  cent  in 
the  world.  I  lost  every  thing  in  the  fire  yes 
terday." 

Even  the  post-office  clerk  in  the  hurry  of 
business  looked  interested,  for  the  tears  were 
rolling  down  the  poor  boy's  face. 

"  You  look  as  if  you'd  nearly  lost  yourself 
in  the  bargain,"  the  gentleman  said.  "  Here, 
give  the  boy  his  letter," — and  he  threw  down  a 
gold  piece  carelessly.  "  Any  thing  for  Frank 
Hadley  ?  I  don't  expect  to  empty  a  steam 
er's  mail." 

The  manner  and  the  voice  sounded  very  fa 
miliar  to  Sam  ;  he  noticed  it  even  in  his  thank 
ful  joy  at  having  the  letter  in  his  possession. 
He  had  never  heard  the  name  before — no,  he 
had  known  Frank  Hadley, — but  only  as  "  the. 


177 


Major."  His  outward  man  had  altered  almost 
as  much  as  his  name,  since  they  parted  that 
morning  at  the  mines.  His  hair  and  beard  were 
shorn  of  their  immoderate  length,  though  still 
several  inches  longer  than  he  would  have  worn 
them  in  Broadway.  Pantaloons  made  a  differ 
ence  too. — Sam  thought  them  a  decided  im 
provement  on  the  red  flannel  drawers,  and  his 
teeth  were  whiter  than  ever. 

u  Oh,  sir,  I  can't  thank  you/'  he  began  to 
say,  grasping  the  letter  as  if  he  was  afraid  some 
one  would  claim  it  back. 

"  Well,  then,  I  wouldn't  try — I'd  read  the 
news.  Hurry  up  there,  if  there's  any  thing  for 
me — this  sun's  as  hot  as  a  furnace." 

"  But  I  thank  you  so  much,  and  I'm  S5  glad 
to  see  you  again" — Sam  went  on  eagerly. 

"  Wasn't  aware  you  ever  had  that  pleasure 
before" — returned  Hadley,  facing  around  sud 
denly.  Well,  if  it  isn't  you,  what  business 
have  you  here  I'd  like  to  know,  cutting  such  a 
figure  as  that  !  I  thought  you  were  in  the 
States,  long  ago.  Did  not  I  send  you  home  ?  " 

"I  couldn't  go — truly  I  couldn't,  he  stole 
all  I  hsd — Golcord,  the  man  that  used  to  be 
with  us." 


178     "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;" 

"And  you  have  been  lying  round  ever 
since.  Why  did  not  you  jump  up  and  try  it 
again,  as  the  fellows  down  there  are  doing  ?  " 

"  But  I  did,  and  that"  s  all^one  too,  in  the 
fire.  I  only  got  here  yesterday,  and  the  house 
I  slept  in  was  burnt  down,  and  now  I  don't 
know  what  to  do." 

"  A  mighty  hard  case,"  said  the  clerk,  ap 
pearing  again.  "  One  letter,  sir — here's  your 
change  ;"  for  Hadley  was  walking  Sam  off  as 
fast  as  possible,  in  utter  forgetfulness  of  the  five 
dollar  piece  he  had  thrown  down. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  to  do  ;  read  your  mo 
ther's  letter  right  off,  and  see  what  she  says.  No 
— come  along  and  get  some  breakfast" — he 
said,  thrusting  the  change  uncounted  into  his 
pocket.  You  look  as  thin  as  a  weasel.  Well, 
Colcord's  got  his  deserts.,  that's  one  consolation. 
I  always  thought  he  had  a  hang  dog  look. 

"  Bobbed  and  murdered,  coming  from  the 
mines,"  he  answered  to  Sam's  questioning  eyes, 
as  the  boy  tried  to  keep  pace  with  his  quick 
strides  down  the  hill.  "  I  should  have  thought 
you'd  have  heard  of  it — 'twas  in  all  the  papers  ; 
there,  read  your  letter — and  break  your  neck 


179 


stumbling,  if  you  want  to,  I'll  pick  you  up" — 
and  the  good-natured  fellow  broke  the  seal  of 
his  own  by  way  of  example.  Sam  tried  to  read, 
but  the  words  were  blurred  and  confused,  and 
he  comprehended  little  more  than  that  all  were 
well,  until  he  was  seated  in  the  comparative  quiet 
of  a  little  restaurant,  and  Hadley  was  calling  for 
coffee  and  mutton  chops. 


180     "  ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS  ; 


CHAPTEE  XIV. 

NEW   PROSPECTS. 

"  MY  dear,  dear  child""  (Sam  could  almost  hear 
his  mother  say  these  precious  words),  "  I  am 
writing  to  you  to-night,  though  our  Heavenly 
Father  only  can  tell  whether  you  will  ever  know 
from  this  how  my  heart  aches  for  you.  I  have 
just  got  your  letter  with  its  dreadful  news,  but  I 
feel  more  for  the  poor  girls  and  for  you  than  I  do 
for  myself.  I  am  used  to  trouble.  I  don't  mean 
to  murmur,  but  it  seems  to  me  as  if  I'd  had 
hardly  any  thing  else  since  my  father  and  moth 
er  died.  God  forgive  me  !  when  my  children 
have  been  such  a  comfort  to  me,  you  especially, 
Sam. 

"  I  know  it's  all  right ;  but  if  I  could  only 
have  been  with  your  poor  father  and  taken  care 
of  him,  if  he  was  only  buried  here  among  his 


OR,   THE    YOUNG    CALIFORNIA]*.  181 

own  people,  where  I  could  go  and  see  his  grave 
sometimes,  it  seems  as  if  I  could  submit.  But 
I  know  you  did  every  thing,  Sam.  I  knew  you 
would  when  I  let  you  go.  God  will  reward  you 
tor  being  a  good,  dutiful  boy.  I  know  it ;  I 
feel  it  ;  and  that's  all  that  keeps  me  up  when  I 
think  about  your  being  alone,  so  far  off,  without 
a  friend  to  look  to.  0  if  you  could  only  get 
home  to  us  !  I  only  ask  to  see  you  again,  and  I 
could  die  in  peace. 

"  Poor  Abby  has  cried  herself  to  sleep  these 
two  nights,  and  hasn't  eaten  a  meal.  You  know 
she  was  always  his  favorite — and  Hannah  doesn't 
seem  well  this  cold  weather  ;  she  never  was  very 
strong.  All  the  neighbors  are  very  kind,  espe 
cially  Squire  Merrill  and  Mrs.  Chase — she  sends 
Ben  over  almost  every  day,  to  see  if  he  can 
do  any  tiling,  and  I  don't  know  how  we  should 
get  along  sometimes,  if  they  did  not  send  in 
something  every  little  while.  Squire  Merrill 
was  in  here  this  afternoon,  and  says  I  had  bet 
ter  send  this  to  San  Francisco,  for  you  might  get 
enough  to  come  home  with,  and  think  to  ask  at 
the  post-office  there  before  you  do.  He  thinks 
you  will  come  right  home  as  soon  as  you  can. 


182     "  ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS  ; " 

It  seems  to  me  as  if  it  would  be  best,  but  I  don't 
know.  My  only  comfort  is,  God  knows  what  is 
best  for  all  of  us  ;  if  we  didn't  need  trouble  lie 
wouldn't  send  it;  I  say  that  to  myself  over  and 
over  again,  and  I  pray  for  you,  morning,  noon, 
and  night.  HE  has  been  my  guide  from  my 
youth  up,  only  make  Him  yours,  my  son,  and 
He  will  take  care  of  you.  Whether  I  ever  see 
you  again  in  this  world  or  not,  I  hope  to  see  you 
in  another,  for  absence  or  death  can  make  no 
difference  in  my  love  for  you. 

"  It  has  been  very  hard  to  say  '  forgive  us 
our  trespasses/  when  I  think  of  Colcord,  but  I 
try  to,  and  I'm  glad  you  did  not  tell.  Sam, 
there  isn't  one  boy  in  a  hundred  would  have 
done  what  you've  done.  No,  nor  in  a  thousand 
neither ! " 

Sam's  hot  tears  fell  faster  and  faster  on  these 
words.  He  felt  rewarded  for  all  he  had  suffered, 
and  all  that  was  before  him.  He  was  not 
ashamed  to  lay  his  head  down  on  the  table  and 
"  cry  it  out." 

"  Well,  now,  if  you're  through,  suppose  we 
have  some  breakfast,"  Hadley  said,  as  he  came 
back  with  the  waiter,  bearing  a  tray  covered 


183 

with  good  things,  "/haven't  had  any  letters 
from  home,  and  I'm  hungry.  Yes — two  oyster 
stews,  boy — any  thing  that's  good — hurry  up 
there. " 

It  was  such'a  meal  as  Sam  had  not  seen  for 
many  a  day,  and  served  on  a  table  with  some 
pretensions  to  comfort  and  elegance.  At  first 
he  tried  to  eat  to  please  his  generous  friend,  and 
because  he  felt  that  he  needed  food  ;  but  by  the 
time  the  savory  oyster  stew  arrived,  he  was  do 
ing  almost  as  well  as  his  companion,  in  the  way 
of  clearing  the  other  dishes. 

"  I  was  just  thinking  it's  a  great  pity  you're 
not  a  girl,"  Hadley  leisurely  remarked,  in  the 
interval  of  breaking  a  cracker  into  his  plate,  and 
giving  a  little  stir  with  his  spoon. 

Sam  looked  up,  wondering  why  his  sex  was 
a  matter  of  regret  ;  it  never  had  been  to  him. 
Who  ever  did  see  a  boy  that  was  not  proud  of 
being  one,  and  had  not  in  the  bottom  of  his 
heart  a  great  feeling  of  superiority  towards  all 
"  girls  ?  " 

"  Why,  you  see,  I'm  looking  up  a  cook,  that's 
my  errand  down  here.  You  did  not  know  I  had 
turned  ranchero,  country  gentleman,  with  a  villa 


184     "  ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS  ; " 

under  the  elegant  title  of  Hadley's  Eanch. — 
Well,  I  have,  and  find  it  rather  too  much  to  see 
to  ploughing  and  sowing,  making  fences,  taking 
care  of  the  chickens,  stable  boy  and  cook  into 
the  bargain.  Women  folks  are  scarce  up  in  our 
valley,  and  unless  I  sacrifice  myself  and  marry 
one  of  those  Pike  County  whole-team  individ 
uals,  I  don't  see  what's  going  to  become  of  me." 

"  I  did  not  know  you  were  a  farmer,  sir," 
Sam  said,  while  his  mother's  counsel  of  working 
at  whatever  offered  itself,  came  into  his  mind. 

"  Nor  I  either — till  I  tried  it,  just  by  way  of 
a  change  when  I  came  down  from  the  mines. 
What  do  you  suppose  my  sisters  would  say  to 
such  a  fist  as  that  ?  I  used  to  wear  Stewart's 
ladies'  gloves  to  their  parties  before  I  came  away, 
and  think  it  was  hard  work  to  wait  on  them  to 
the  opera.  I  don't  suppose  they  would  own  any 
part  of  me  but  my  moustache  now." 

Hadley's  dress  was  certainly  suggestive  of 
any  thing  sooner  than  a  New- York  dandy  ,  and 
so  were  his  face  and  figure,  hardy  and  sun 
burnt  ;  but  his  manners  had  the  courtesy  and 
self-possession  of  a  gentleman,  as  well  as  the  free 
and  easy  style  of  the  new  country.  It  was, 


OB,   THE    YOUNG   CALIFORNIAN.  185 

quite  true  before  he  came  to  California  he  had 
managed  to  spend  a  large  property,  left  to  him 
by  his  father,  and  his  sisters  were  among  the 
most  fashionable  women  in  New- York.  His 
riches  had  taken  the  wings  of  extravagance  and 
self-indulgence,  to  flee  away ;  but  as  he  often 
said,  it  was  the  best  thing  they  ever  did 
for  him. 

"  I  should  think  sisters  would  be  glad  to 
own  a  person  any  way,"  Sam  said,  thinking  his 
sisters  would,  if  he  came  home  a  beggar. 

"  Very  likely,  if  they'd  lived  together  when 
they  were  children,  and  had  a  mother,  to  look 
after  them.  My  sisters  always  lived  at  boarding- 
school,  and  so  did  I  until  I  was  old  enough  to 
take  the  reins  into  my  own  hands.  I  drove  a 
little  too  fast,  and  got  upset,  you  see.  Won't 
you  have  something  else  ?  " 

But  Sam's  very  good  appetite  was  quite 
satisfied,  and  that  brought  him  back  to  business 
matters.  "  I  don't  believe  but  I  could  cook,  sir." 

"  You  !  what  do  you  know  about  it  ?  " 

"  A  great  deal ;  more  than  most  boys  I  mean. 
My  mother  is  a  first  rate  cook,  and  I  used  to 
like  to  be  around  baking  days,  and  in  the  galley, 


186     "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;" 

on  the  ship.  You  know  I  always  cooked  on  the 
bar." 

"  So  you  did — did  not  I  teach  you  how  to 
make  slap-jacks  one  day  ?  I  consider  that  an 
accomplishment  worth  having ;"  and  Hadley 
shut  one  eye  and  looked  up  in  the  air,  as  if  to 
catch  a  smoking,  brown,  batter-cake,  after  a 
scientific  toss. 

"  Well,  -suppose  you  try  it,  till  something 
else  turns  up/' 

Sam  was  only  too  glad  to  accept  the  pro 
posal.  The  prospect  of  immediate  employment, 
at  any  thing  but  mining,  and  with  a  person  he 
liked  very  much,  seemed  almost  too  good  news 
to  be  true.  He  Jiad  very  little  idea  of  a  ranch, 
except  that  it  was  something  like  a  farm,  and 
he  should  live  a  kind  of  free  and  easy  life.  A 
very  pleasant  prospect,  since  he  could  not  get 
home,  after  the  great  fatigue  and  monotony  of 
a  miner's  life. 

"I  don't  promise  very  high  wages" — was 
about  all  the  agreement  they  made,  and  they 
were  on  the  sloop  that  was  to  take  them  across 
San  Pablo  Bay,  before  Hadley  mentioned  the 
matter  at  all.  They  were  very  glad  to  get 


187 

away  from  the  discomforts  of  San  Francisco,  as 
soon  as  the  business  which  had  brought  him 
down,  was  finished.  The  air  was  full  of  ashes 
and  cinders,  and  every  second  person  they  met 
was  a  sufferer  in  some  way  by  the  fire.  The  lit 
tle  sloop  had  a  load  of  lumber  for  Hadley's  ranch 
on  board,  and  an  assorted  cargo  of  flour,  rice, 
molasses,  sugar,  and  groceries  of  all  kinds  for 
the  same  place.  These  were  to  be  given  to 
Sam's  charge  forthwith. 

The  sail  was  perfectly  delightful.  The  air 
was  so  fresh  and  exhilarating,  as  the  little  vessel 
bounded  across  the  broad  bay,  the  spray  and 
mist  dashing  up  before  her,  and  the  white  sails 
filled  with  a  favorable  wind.  The  hills,  usually 
so  bare  and  desolate,  were  covered  with  a  vivid 
mantle  of  green  to  the  very  summits,  by  the 
heavy  rains,  and  the  few  days  of  warm  sunshine. 
Hadley  seemed  to  enjoy  Sam's  delight,  but  told 
him  to  keep  his  ecstasies  for  the  ranch,  for  there 
was  no  place  in  California,  nor  the  whole  world 
to  compare  with  it !  A  very  small  world,  pro 
bably,  Sam  thought. 

But  he  did  not  wonder  much,  when  he  came 
in  sight  of  it ;  in  his  world,  he  certainly  had  ne- 


188     "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD,  THAT  GLITTERS;" 

ver  seen  any  thing  that  could  compare  with  that 
first  glimpse  of  Sonoma  valley.  It  was  as  dif 
ferent  from  any  thing  he  had  seen  in  California, 
as  if  he  had  been  in  another  country.  The  de 
solate  plains  of  Sacramento,  the  barren  ranges 
of  the  hills  in  the  mining  country,  make  the  rich 
valleys  all  the  more  beautiful  by  contrast. 

It  was  an  hour  before  sundown,  when  the 

I 

sloop  came  to,  at  the  Embarcadero,  or  landing, 
on  a  little  creek,  emptying  into  the  bay,  after 
winding    through  the  fertile   valley   lands.     A 
real  wagon,  and  two  spirited  horses  were  wait 
ing  them,  in  charge  of  Malony,  the  head  man, 
whose  universal   knowledge,  and  blunders  and 
brogue,  Hadley   had   been  amusing  Sam  with 
that  afternoon.     His  employer  took  "  the  reins 
into  his  own  hands/'  as  he  had  said,  and  now  he 
could  not  drive  too  fast  for  Sam's  good  pleasure, 
or  his  own  impatience.     The  ranch  was  a  per 
fect  passion  with  him.     Sam   believed   he   was 
right  when  he  said  he  should  not  care  any  more 
for  a  wife  if  he  had  one.     The  horses,  Bill  and 
Dick,  knew  very  well  who  was  driving  them,  and 
flew  along  a  road  as  level  as  an  English  turn 
pike  ;  bordered  by  fields  instead  of  fences,  prai- 


189 

rie-like  meadows  of  wild  oats,  and  countless 
flowers,  so  thick,  and  with  such  brilliant  colors 
that  the  whole  valley  seemed  like  a  bright  car 
pet  unrolled  before  them.  Clumps  of  oaks,  and 
red-wood  trees  stood  like  islands  in  this  sea  of 
verdure,  with  a  bright  emerald  foliage  of  early 
spring,  and  waved  and  rustled  their  branches 
from  the  hills  on  each  side.  There  was  not  a 
bare  or  barren  spot  for  miles,  and  fording  the 
creek  now  grown  narrower,  but  not  less  clear 
and  musical,  they  came  suddenly  on  the  new 
house,  standing  in  the  very  midst  of  this 
luxuriance. 

There  were  fences  and  out-houses,  oxen  low 
ing,  and  hens  cackling,  the  deep  growl  of  the 
watch-dog,  and  the  snapping  of  two  most  ill-na 
tured  looking  terriers,  to  make  up  the  picture. 
The  house  itself  was  really  a  house,  and  not  a 
log  cabin,  or  shanty,  as  Sam  had  supposed. 
The  frame  had  been  shipped  from  the  States, 
and  sent  up  by  Hadley,  to  replace  the  shanty  of 
the  first  settler,  when  he  came  into  possession  of 
the  ranch.  It  was  two  stories  high,  with  real 
windows  and  doors,  and  painted  white.  Sam 
had  not  expected  to  find  any  thing  so  comfort- 


190      "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;" 

able  on  the  premises  ;  and  was  astonished,  much 
to  Hartley's  gratification,  when  he  caught  the 
first  glimpse  of  it  through  the  trees. 

Its  furniture  was  not  very  elegant  or  abund 
ant,  and  the  largest  room  was  filled  with  a  varied 
collection  of  farming  and  carpenters'  tools,  boards, 
seeds,  chests  and  boxes  of  all  kinds, — a  general 
lumber  room.  In  the  absence  of  a  barn;  which 
was  to  be  built  as  soon  as  the  ranch ero  could  afford 
it,  or  time  would  permit,  the  fowls  had  been 
let  out  of  the  very  large  chicken  house,  and  the 
long  legs  of  a  Shanghai  were  walking  comfort- 
ably  over  the  kitchen  table,  while  three  more 
surveyed  the  new  arrivals  curiously  from  the 
door-step.  There  was  a  bedroom  on  the 
ground-floor,  with  a  four-post  bedstead,  minus 
mattress,  sheets  or  pillows, — sacking,  and  a  pair 
of  blue  blankets  supplied  their  places.  Over 
head  were  two  unfurnished  rooms,  occupied  by 
Malony,  and  his  brother  work-fellows,  in  harvest 
time  ;  their  blankets  doing  duty  on  the  floor. 

The  housekeeping,  to  which  Sam  was  speed 
ily  introduced,  was  quite  as  miscellaneous. — 
Some  obliging  neighbor  had  sent  over  a  gallon  of 
buttermilk,  and  the  bread  was  as  light  and 


OR,  THE    YOUNG   CALIFORNIA!*.  191 


baked  as  Mrs.  Gilman's.  The  fried,  fresh  beef, 
and  boiled  beans,  were  eaten  with  silver  forks, 
a  trace  of  Hadley's  early  propensities,  and  the 
only  set  that  had  so  far  entered  the  valley  ;  and 
he  washed  the  dishes  himself,  by  the  light  of 
spermaceti  candles  inserted  into  empty  claret 
bottles.  Perhaps  Abby  would  not  have  been  sat 
isfied  with  the  general  use  the  towels  were  put  to, 
and  might  have  thought  they  would  have  lasted 
longer  if  they  had  been  hemmed.  But  Abby 
was  not  there,  and  her  brother  saw  nothing  to 
grumble  at. 

Matters  looked  a  little  straighter  about  the 
house,  however,  after  his  ministrations  com 
menced.  He  shared  in  his  mother's  love  of  order 
and  neatness,  and  many  of  her  practical  lessons 
to  Abby  and  Hannah  came  back  to  him.  He 
found  that  when  the  chairs  were  set  up,  and  the 
chickens  dislodged,  the  stove  cleaned,  and  the  floor 
swept,  "  the  decks  were  considerably  clearer  to 
work  in."  Instead  of  thinking  his  employment 
degrading  or  unbecoming,  he  took  the  greatest 
pride  and  pleasure  in  it,  since  it  was  his  work, 
and  kept  in  mind  one  of  Mrs.  Gilman's  favorite 
maxims,  "  Whatever  is  worth  doing  is  worth  do 
ing  well." 


.  He  obeyed  a  still  higher  precept,  "  Whatso 
ever  thy  hand  findeth  to  do,  do  with  all  thy 
might;"  and  thus  it  was,  that  "  faithful  in  a 
few  things,"  he  fitted  himself  to  "be  ruler  over 
many"  when  the  time  should  come. 

Life  on  the  ranch  was  never  dull  or  monot 
onous.  Housekeeping  was  a  very  small  part  of 
what  he  did.  There  were  the  fowls  to  feed  and 
water,  the  eggs  to  look  after,  and  the  young 
brood  to  watch.  Hadley's  fowls  received  as 
much  attention  as  any  part  of  the  family.  They 
were  a  China  breed,  rare  and  costly,  and  he  was 
as  fond  of  them  as  of  the  ranch,  or  the  house,  or 
Sam  ;  for  when  Sam  came  to  be  known  in  the 
valley,  he  was  as  great  a  favorite  as  he  had  been 
on  shipboard.  People  came  miles  to  see  the 
fowls.  Hadley  knew  them  all  apart,  and  had 
named  most  of  them,  curious  entries  being  made 
in  the  farm  journal,  kept  daily,  of  the  eggs  and 
families  of  "  Pert,"  "  Topknot,"  "  Old  Maid," 
"  Sauce  Box,"  "  Dinah,"  and  many  other  occu 
pants  of  the  chicken  house.  There  was  an  excuse 
for  a  vegetable  garden  laid  out  when  Sam  came, 
but  no  one  had  found  time  to  attend  to  it.  By 
June  it  was  as  flourishing  as  garden  could  be. 


OB,  THE   YOUNG   CALIFORNIAN.  193 

with  rows  of  lettuce  and  early  peas,  and  such 
beets  and  melons,  in  prospect,  as  would  have 
astonished  the  farmers  at.  Merrill's  Corner.  Hay 
making,  from  the  tall,  wild  oats, was  the  farm  work 
for  the  first  few  weeks,  and  Sam  was  as  much 
help  as  any  of  the  extra  hands.  Hadley  mowed 
with  the  men  all  day,  drinking  molasses  and 
water  from  the  same  big  pitcher,  and  beating 
them  by  half  an  acre,  when  he  became  a  little 
accustomed  to  the  swing  of  the  scythe.  He  was 
very  much  respected  all  through  the  valley,  his 
pride  taking  the  form  of  a  sturdy  independence, 
and  his  liberal,  generous  disposition  finding  its 
proper  place  in  the  hospitalities  of  a  new 
country. 

When  the  day's  work  was  done,  Sam  was  his 
chosen  companion,  while  he  smoked  his  cigar — 
another  trace  of  old  habits— on  a  tour  of  inspec 
tion  to  the  stable,  the  garden,  or  the  chicken- 
house,  or  galloped  over  to  Sonoma  for  letters,  or 
small  stores.  He  had  never  passed  a  week  in  the 
country  before  he  came  to  California,  except  at 
a  watering-place,  and  listened  to  Sam's  practical 
suggestions  with  a  great  deal  of  respect. 

"I'll  tell  you  what,  Sam,"  he  would  say, 
9 


194     "  ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS  ;" 

knocking  the  ashes  from  his  cigar  on  the  top 
rail  of  the  fence — "  there's  no  other  life  like  it. 
I've  seen  a  good  deal  of  the  world,  and  spent  a 
good  deal  of  money.  There  was  my  father 
slaved  himself  to  death,  to  leave  his  children 
rich.  What  comfort  did  he  take  with  all  his 
money,  pinned  down  to  a  desk  all  day  ?  Well, 
I  spent  as  fast  as  he  made,  when  I  came  along. 
I  went  to  Europe  before  I  was  twenty-one,  and 
I  bought  every  thing  I  took  a  fancy  to,  and  saw 
every  thing  that  was  to  be  seen.  When  all  that 
was  gone,  I  came  with  the  rest  of  the  world  to 
California  for  more,  and  got  to  the  mines  just  in 
the  thick  of  the  gold  crop.  Handling  the  gold 
is  all  well  enough,  but  what's  the  use  of  it  up 
there  ?  It  don't  bring  a  home,  nor  a  house  to 
put  your  head  in, — you  spend  about  as  much  as 
you  can  make,  and  have  nothing  to  show 
for  it." 

Sam  always  agreed  with  him,  and  thought  if 
he  was  only  earning  a  little  more,  for  his  mother 
and  sisters,  or  could  be  near  them,  he  would  not 
change  his  life  on  the  ranch  for  any  thing  he 
could  think  of.  He  worked  as  many  hours  as 
when  he  was  at  the  mines,  but  he  lived  for 


195 


something  else  besides  eating  and  sleeping.  His 
boyhood  came  back,  surrounded  by  this  beautiful 
country,  and  enjoying  its  freedom.  He  had  ex 
plored  it  for  miles  in  every  direction,  mounted 
on  one  of  Hadley's  excellent  horses,  which  he  was 
as  free  to  use  as  if  they  had  been  his  own.  Jerry 
and  Buck,  the  oxen,  had  a  fancy  for  being 
neighborly,  when  their  day's  work  was  ended, 
and  straying  off  to  try  the  oats  on  the  adjoining 
farms,  or  see  how  the  barley  crops  came  on. 
Hunting  after  them  wTas  one  of  Sam's  favorite 
sports  ;  though  they  often  led  him  a  weary 
chase,  and  were  captured  one  at  a  time. 

Then  there  was  Sunday,  that  blessed  day  of 
rest  both  to  man  and  beast,  when  the  house  had 
a  more  orderly  air  than  usual,  and  Sam  always 
"  went  to  meeting " — as  he  called  putting  on 
clean  clothes  and  reading  his  mother's  Bible. 

The  ranch  abounded  in  books  and  newspa 
pers,  in  which  its  owner  never  stinted  himself, 
being  supplied  regularly  by  arrivals  from  the 
States  ;  and  through  these,  Sam  was  getting  a 
good,  practical  education,  mind  and  body  both 
developing,  through  natural,  healthy  exercise. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THANKSGIVING    DAY. 

"  GOOD-BY,  mother — it's  too  bad  you  aint  going. 
I  hate  to  leave  you  all  alone." 

"  Hadn't  you  better  come,  Miss  Gilman  ?  the 
sleigh  can  hold  just  as  many  as  we  can  pile  in, 
and  my  wife  don't  stint  her  oven  Thanksgiving 
Day/'  urged  the  Deacon,  standing  up  in  the  huge 
box-sleigh,  and  tucking  the  buffalo  robe  around 
Mrs.  Chase,  who  was  on  the  front  seat  with  him. 

"  Now,  I  know  you  haven't  got  nothing  to 
keep  you/'  said  the  good  woman,  seconding  her 
husband's  invitation. 

"  Do,  mother  !  " — called  out  Abby  again, 
from  between  Ben  and  Julia  Chase,  and  Han 
nah's  eyes  looked  "do  mother,"  though  Ben  had 
almost  smothered  her  in  the  blue  and  white 
coverlet,  which  came  to  their  share. 


197 


"  Two  turkies,"  said  Ben,  "  real  fine,  fat  fel 
lows." 

"  And  whole  oceans  of  mince  and  punkin 
pies,  I  helped  to  make  "em,  didn't  I,  mother  ?  " 
added  Julia,  proud  of  her  first  great  attempt  in 
the  kitchen  department ;  "  besides,  the  biggest 
plum  pudding  ! " 

Mrs.  Gilman  only  shook  her  head,  and  pulled 
her  black  hood  close  over  her  face,  as  she  went 
down  the  hill  from  the  meeting-house.  She  was 
afraid  to  speak,  for  fear  her  voice  would  tremble 
with  the  tears  she  could  hardly  keep  down.  It 
had  been  a  hard  day  to  her,  one  of  the  hardest 
in  her  life,  for  she  knew  she  ought  to  join  in  the 
thanksgiving ;  and,  look  whichever  way  she 
could,  only  her  troubles  came  up  to  her. 

The  very  name  of  the  anniversary,  so  full 
of  associations  to  her, — the  hymns  of  the 
morning  service,  the  minister's  text — 0  give 
thanks  unto  the  Lord,  for  He  is  good, 
and  His  mercy  endureth  for  ever  !  had 
made  her  sad  instead 'of  rejoicing.  When  she 
came  out  with  the  congregation,  families  that 
she  had  known  all  her  lifetime,  all  looking  so 
happy,  a  feeling  nearer  to  envy  of  their  prospe- 


198      "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS  ;" 

rity,  and  rebellion  against  her  Heavenly  Father's 
choice  for  her,  than  she  had  ever  felt  through  all 
her  troubles,  rose  up,  choking  her  voice,  as  she 
tried  to  return  their  friendly  salutations  cheer 
fully.  She  was  glad  the  children  were  going 
home  with  the  Deacon,  they  would  not  miss 
their  thanksgiving  dinner  ;  but  she  felt  it  would 
be  impossible  to  accept  the  invitation  for  herself. 

She  did  not  look  up  as  the  sleighs  passed  her 
on  the  road,  though  she  had  to  stand  aside  for 
them  more  than  once,  warned  by  their  merry 
bells.  She  was  chilled  by  the  damp  new-fallen 
snow,  and  felt  utterly  desolate,  when  she  unfas 
tened  the  door  of  the  little  brown  house.  Squire 
Merrill's  team,  with  its  party  of  young  and  old, 
was  just  going  by  the  gate. 

"  There's  a  mail  in  from  California,  I  hear  " — 
he  called  out  ;  checking  his  horses  for  a  mo 
ment.  "  I'll  go  round  to  the  post-office  to 
night.  Fine  day,  Mrs.  Gilman,"  and  then  she 
was  alone  in  the  empty  room.  The  promise  did 
not  raise  her  spirits ;  so  many  mails  had  arrived 
with  nothing  for  her,  that  she  had  almost  given 
up  looking  for  them.  The  neighbors  had  not 
forgotten  her  in  their  own  abundance,  but  she 


OR,  THE    YOUNG   CALIFORNIAN.  199 

did  not  feel  like  eating.  She  had  never  taken  a 
thanksgiving  dinner  alone,  in  her  life,  and  she 
could  not  so  much  as  taste  food. 

Sometimes  the  room,  bare  as  it  was,  looked 
neat  and  comfortable  to  her,  but  not  now. 
Every  thing  had  the  stiff,  cleared-up  air  of  a  hol 
iday,  without  its  cheerfulness.  The  stove  was 
a  poor  substitute  for  the  wide,  blazing  fireplace,  to 
which  she  had  been  always  accustomed  ;  and  she 
thought  of  the  homestead,  and  those  who  had 
gathered  there  in  days  gone  by.  If  she  could 
have  taken  her  work,  it  would  have  been  a 
great  relief,  but  it  would  not  have  seemed  right 
to  sew  on  thanksgiving  day,  any  more  than  if  it 
had  been  Sunday  ;  so  she  drew  her  chair  iip  to 
the  black,  uninviting  stove,  and  leaning  her 
chin  on  her  hand,  went  on  with  the  bitter 
th'oughts,  a  weary,  heart-stricken  woman. 

The  thought  of  her  childhood, — the  abun 
dance  and  merriment  of  those  thanksgiving 
days,  when  the  whole  house  was  filled  with 
plenty,  and  she  dreamed  for  weeks  of  the  dain 
ties  and  merry  making  to  come.  When 
she  first  had  children  of  her  own,  she 
lived  it  all  over  again  in  their  pleasure.  She 


200    "  ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS  ;" 

thought  of  her  husband  as  he  was  then, — a 
liberal,  kind-hearted  man,  loved  and  respected 
by  others  as  well  as  herself.  And  her  boy — her 
first-born — where  was  he  ?  She  had  not  had; 
since  the  news  of  his  father's  death  came,  but 
one  short  letter,  when  he  wrote  in  the  anticipa 
tion  of  a  home  he  might  never  have  found. 
His  fate  might  be  worse  than  death,  a  wanderer 
in  a  strange  land,  and  the  pressing  care  of  ac 
tual  poverty  had  come  upon  her  with  all 
the  rest. 

She  listened  and  watched  through  the  after 
noon,  with  a  kind  of  sickening  eagerness,  for 
Squire  Merrill's  return.  But  it  was  as  she  had 
feared — no  letter  ;  and  he  did  not  even  try  to 
comfort  her.  He  saw  by  the  look  which  came 
over  her  face,  that  it  would  be  useless. 

"Never  mind" — she  said  to  herself  with  a 
kind  of  despairing  calmness,  "  she  ought  not  to 
expect  any  thing  but  disappointment  in  this 
world/' 

But  she  knew  she  was  doing  wrong  in  giv 
ing  up  to  such  a  temptation,  and  indulging 
murmuring  thoughts.  "  God  forgive  me  !  He 
knows  what  is  best" — she  said  half  aloud, 


« 


OR,  THE    YOUNG   CALIFORNIAN.  201 

and  got  up  with  a  great  effort,  and  put  down 
the  paper  window-curtains,  before  she  lighted  a 
candle,  to  try  and  drive  them  away  with  the 
darkness.  Her  hymn  book,  with  its  well-worn 
leathern  binding,  laid  on  the  mantel.  It  had 
been  her  mother's  before  it  was  her  own,  and  she 
had  learned  her  letters  from  the  large  capitals 
at  the  commencement  of  the  lines.  She  turned 
to  trje  psalms  first,  and  looked  for  those  that 
suited  her  present  mood.  She  had  often  found 
comfort  in  their  deep  faith,  and  humble,  repent 
ant  spirit.  There  was  one  she  had  read  many 
times  of  late — 

How  long  wilt  thou  forget  me,  Lord  ? 

Must  I  for  ever  mourn  ? 
How  long  wilt  thou  withdraw  from  me, 

0,  never  to  return ! 

Oh,  hear,  and  to  my  longing  eyes 

Restore  thy  wonted  light ; 
Dawn  on  my  spirit,  lest  I  sleep 

In  death's  most  gloomy  night. 

Since  I  have  always  placed  my  trust 

Beneath  thy  mercy's  wing, 
Thy  saving  health  will  come;  and  then 

My  heart  with  joy  shall  spring. 

She  had  always  tried  to  do  right.  He  had  pro 
mised  never  to  forsake  those  who  trusted  His  love 
and  kindness ! 


202     "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS 


She  noticed  something  written  with  a  pen 
cil  on  the  margin  of  a  hymn,  as  she  turned  over 
the  leaves  in  search  of  other  favorites.  It  was 
the  text  of  the  sermon,  the  Sunday  before  her 
husband  went  away  ; — 

Lay  not  up  for  yourself  treasures  upon 
earth,  inhere  moth  and  rust  do  corrupt,  and 
thieves  break  through  and  steal. 

Oh,  if  he  had  only  heeded  the  warning,  and 
made  a  wise  use  of  what  had  been  given  to 
him  !  and  there  was  the  hymn  they  had  all 
sung,  that  last  Sunday  evening.  It  came  as  an 
answer  to  her  silent  prayer,  and  hushed  the  last 
straggling  doubt  of  her  heavenly  Father's  good 
ness. 

"Ye  fearful  souls  fresh  courage  take, 

The  clouds  you  so  much  dread 
Are  full  of  mercy,  and  shall  break 
In  blessings  on  your  head." 

She  sang  to  herself,  as  she  rose  with  a  quicker 
step  and  lighter  heart  than  she  had  had  before 
that  day. 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  front  door,  and  she 
opened  it,  wondering  a  little  who  of  her  neigh 
bors  had  left  their  families,  Thanksgiving  even 
ing,  to  pay  her  a  visit. 


203 


But  she  had  never  seen  the  face  before,  and 
the  stranger  did  not  know  her  either,  for  he 
asked  "if  Mrs.  Gilman  lived  here  ?  "  He  took 
off  his  fur  travelling  cap  when  he  came  into  the 
room,  and  his  dark,  handsome  face,-^strange 
enough  it  looked  to  her,  with  its  heavy  beard 
and  moustache,  lighted  up  with  a  pleasant  smile, 
as  he  said-^ 

"  I  bring  my  introduction,  and  I  hope  iny 
welcome,  too,  in  a  letter  from  your  son,  madam." 

"  Oh,  sir,  from  Sam  —  from  California?  Have 
you  seen  him  ?  Is  he  well  ?  lam  so  thankful." 

Mrs.  Gilman  had  found  her  Thanksgiving  Day 
at  last. 

The  gentleman  made  himself  very  much  at 
home,  as  she  eagerly  opened  the  letter,  and  would 
not  answer  a  question  till  she  had  read  it.  Then 
he  was  ready  to  tell  her  all  she  wished  to  hear, 
and  such  good  news,  that  she  scarcely  knew  how 
to  bear  it. 

Mrs.  Gilman  knew  from  the  letter  that  Mr. 
Hadley  brought  it.  He  had  left  Sam  in  charge 
of  the  ranchj  he  said,  and  came  to  the  States, 
partly  "  to  see  if  they  were  still  standing,"  and 
partly  to  take  her  back  with  him.  He  and  Sam 


204    "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;" 

had  talked  it  over  until  they  thought  it  was  the 
best  thing  to  be  done.  He  wanted  a  housekeep 
er,  that  would  not  go  off  and  get  married  the  day 
she  landed,  and  Sam  wanted  his  mother  and  the 
girls.  He  wanted  a  dairy,  and  Mrs.  Gilman  was 
the  very  one  to  manage  it, — butter  was  selling 
at  a  dollar  a  pound,  and  they  would  go  partner 
ship  in  it  if  she  was  willing.  Sam  was  too  valu 
able  a  hand  on  the  farm  to  waste  his  time  in 
housekeeping,  and  had  been  willing  to  enter  into 
bonds  for  Abby's  good  care  of  the  chicken-house. 
"  It  would  be  a  shame,"  he  said,  "  to  take  Sam 
out  of  the  country  ;  he  would  do  better  there 
than  he  could  ever  do  in  the  States,  and  she 
would  see  him  in  Congress  yet,  if  he  made  as 
popular  a  man  as  he  was  boy  ;  but  if  Mrs.  Gil 
man  wouldn't  come  out,  Sam  would  come  home, 
and  that  would  be  the  last  of  him." 

There  was  no  end  to  the  praises  that  he  lav 
ished  on  the  young  ranchero,  for  so  he  began  to 
call  himself ;  on  his  honesty  and  industry,  his 
perseverance  and  his  good  sense.  His  pies  and 
his  ploughing,  Hadley  declared,  could  not  be 
beaten  in  the  valley,  and  he  didn't  believe  his 
sisters  could  hem  a  towel  or  make  a  flannel  shirt 
better. 


OR,   THE   YOUNG   CALIFORNIAN.  205 

Mrs.  Oilman  actually  laughed  at  this  singu 
lar  list  of  accomplishments,  and  hegan  to  feel  as 
if  she  had  known  Sam's  friend  a  longtime.  They 
gut  on  very  fast  indeed.  Hadley  thought  to  him 
self  he  could  see  Sam's  smile  in  his  mother's  eyes, 
and  they  had  just  that  clear,  honest  look.  He 
was  not  in  the  least  disappointed — and  felt  sure 
he  should  carry  her  back  with  him,  impossible 
as  she  seemed  to  think  it  at  first.  Mrs.  Gilman 
did  not  wonder  that  Sam's  letter  praised  him  so, 
and  hardly  knew  how  to  show  him  how  sincerely 
thankful  and  grateful  she  was. 

Abby  and  Hannah  came  home  in  fine  spirits. 
"  Ben  had  driven  them  in  the  cutter,  and  had 
tipped  them  out  in  a  snow-drift  on  Shingle  Camp, 
and  they  had  such  fun  !  and  such  a  splendid 
dinner,  and  Mrs.  Chase  had  sent — " 

But  here  the  young  ladies  became  suddenly 
aware  of  the  presence  of  a  stranger,  and  became 
as  quiet,  and  shy,  and  awkward  in  a  moment,  as 
they  had  been  gleeful  and  graceful  before. 

Mr.  Hadley  did  not  intend  this  should  last; 
he  liked  their  faces  much  better  lighted  up  by 
fun  ancl  frolic,  than  when  they  settled  themselves 
on  the  edges  of  two  chairs,  stiff,  little  country 
girls. 


206 


"  Well,  what  did  Mrs.  Chase  send,  Abby  ?— 
this  must  be  Abby,"  he  said,  pulling  the  bashful 
child  towards  him — "  something  good,  I  hope, 
for  your  mother  has  not  given  me  any  supper  yet. 
Let's  see" — and  off  came  the  clean  towels  in 
quick  order,  as  he  set  the  dishes  out  of  the  big 
basket  on  the  table.  "  Cold  ham — very  good — 
apple  pie,  mince  pie,  better  and  better — goose 
pie—" 

"  No,  chicken,"  corrected  Abby,  forgetting 
her  awe  of  the  height,  and  moustache  of  the 
stranger,  in  his  funny  ways.  It  was  a  mistake 
"  made  on  purpose,"  and  they  were  good  friends 
from  that  moment,  though  it  took  Hannah  much 
longer  to  get  over  her  shyness. 

"  Well,  now,  let  us  have  a  plate,  and  a  knife 
and  fork,"  Mr.  Hadley  went  on,  "  two  of  them, 
Hannah ;  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  your  mother 
would  have  some  goose  pie  too  ;"  and  late  as  it 
was,  a  capital  supper  was  soon  set  forth,  in  which 
Mrs.  Gilman  did  join  him.  Hannah  told  Abby 
that  she  did  not  believe  her  mother  had  tasted 
a  mouthful  before,  all  day,  and  she  was  quite 
right. 

"  Good-night,"  Mr.  Hadley  said,  taking  up 


207 


his  overcoat,  when  they  had  all  talked,  and 
laughed,  and  wondered,  until  the  old  clock  struck 
ten.  "  Our  friend,  Mr.  Mooney,  has  promised  me 
a  bed,  but  I  shall  come  and  help  you  to  finish 
that  pie  in  the  morning.  Oh,  Sam  said  you'd 
be  wanting  some  new  travelling  frocks,  or  some 
thing,  and  here's  a  couple  of  slugs  or  so,  to  get 
them  with.  Do  all  your  shopping  before  you 
start ;  our  Sonoma  stores  haven't  the  best  assort 
ment  of  calicoes." 

Abby  picked  up  the  "  slugs,"  as  Mr.  Hadley 
called  them,  six  there  were  instead  of  a  couple  ; 
three  hundred  dollars,  they  found  next  day. 

She  never  had  seen  any  California  gold  be 
fore,  and  thought  they  looked  very  like  ugly, 
heavy  brass  medals.  "  Small  cakes  of  maple 
sugar,"  Hannah  suggested,  trying  to  describe 
them  to  Julia  Chase.  They  did  not  "  glitter,"  it 
is  true,  but  were  excellent  gold,  for  Squire  Mer 
rill  readily  gave  Mrs.  Gilman  three  hundred  dol 
lars  in  new  ten-dollar  bank  bills  in  exchange. 

Mr.  Hadley  came  early  the  next  morning,  in 
Mr.  Mooney's  best  sleigh,  full  of  buffalo  robes, 
to  give  them  a  sleigh-ride.  He  wanted  to  go 
over  to  the  Deacon's,  he  said,  and  see  Ben,  and 


208     "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;" 

Julia,  and  Mrs.  Chase.  He  knew  them  all  very 
well  by  Sam's  account,  and  had  something  in 
charge  Sam  had  sent.  Abby  had  half  a  mind 
to  be  jealous  at  first,  when  a  heavy  ring  of  Yuba- 
river  gold  came  out  for  Julia,  whose  eyes 
sparkled  not  so  much  at  the  gift  as  the  remem 
brance  of  the  giver.  Ben  had  given  up  all  idea 
of  going  to  sea,  and  "  settled  down  into  a  real 
stiddy  hand," — his  father  said,  bidding  fair  to 
occupy  the  Deacon's  seat  one  day.  The  Deacon 
took  a  great  fancy  to  Mr.  Hadley,  and  they  had 
a  long  talk  about  crops,  and  California  farming, 
with  a  great  many  "deu  telPs,"  and  "jus'  so's," 
on  the  Deacon's  part.  He  "  tackled  up,"  and 
went  over  to  Mrs.  Gilman's  that  afternoon,  to 
tell  her,  that  he  and  his  wife  thought  the  best 
thing  she  could  do,  was  to  "  take  up  with  the 
offer  of  this  ere  Californy  chap,  who  seemed  to 
be  doing  first  rate  by  Sam,  and  was  real  likely,  if 
he'd  only  shave  that  hair  off  his  face." 

Squire  Merrill's  opinion,  a  little  more  ele 
gantly  expressed,  agreed  with  the  Deacon's,  when 
he  had  seen  and  talked  with  Mr.  Hadley.  His 
visit  to  the  Gilmans,  and  their  affairs,  made  a 
great  noise  in  Merrill's  Corner,  which  Abby 


209 

was  not  slow  to  take  airs  upon.  He  was  the  first 
real  Californian  that  had  ever  been  in  the  village, 
and  the  President,  himself,  would  hardly  have 
had  a  greater  crowd  than  gathered  around 
Mooney's  tavern  to  see  him  off.  He  was  to  come 
back  again  in  a  month  for  Mrs.  Gilman,  whose 
preparation*  and  leave-takings  would  not  take 
more  than  that  time. 

No  brother  could  have  been  kinder  to  Abby 
and  Hannah,  when  Mr.  Hadley  really  took  charge 
of  them  at  the  commencement  of  their  long 
journey.  He  showed  them  all  that  he  could 
think  of  that  would  interest  them  in  New- York, 
until  their  heads  were  in  a  whirl  of  panoramas, 
and  museums,  and  picture  galleries,  with  dissolv 
ing  views  of  the  Battery  and  High  Bridge,  and 
strong  recollections  of  bookstores  and  confec 
tioners.  For  once  in  her  life  Hannah  had  enough 
of  candies  and  new  books.  Mrs.  Gilman  was 
afraid  they  would  be  completely  spoiled,  and 
talked  to  Mr.  Hadley  very  seriously  about  in 
dulging  them  so. 

He  seemed  to  have  adopted  the  whole  family, 
for  he  said  "mother  "  half  the  time.  So  much, 
that  several  people  on  the  steamer  talked  to 


210 


Abby  about  "  her  brother/'  much  to  her  delight 
and  amusement.  He  was  attentive  as  a  son  to 
all  Mrs.  Gilman's  wants  and  wishes  through  the 
discomforts  of  sea-sickness,  and  crossing  the  Isth 
mus.  The  girls  enjoyed  the  Isthmus  mule-ride 
more  than  any  part  of  the  journey.  Abby 
laughed  at  Hannah's  mishaps,  and  'slipped  off 
the  mule  herself  the  next  rough  place  they  came 
to.  Mr.  Hadley  laughed  at  both  of  them,  and 
said  he  should  have  to  give  them  lessons  in  horse 
manship  as  soon  as  they  got  to  the  ranch. 

They  arrived  safely  in  San  Francisco,  the 
steamer  before  Sam  expected  them,  and  Mr. 
Hadley  would  not  send  him  word,  as  he  counted 
on  a  grand  surprise. 

The  team  was  waiting  the  arrival  of  the  lit 
tle  steamboat,  which  now  touched  twice  a  week 
to  the  Embarcadero,  Mr.  Maloney  having  come 
down  for  a  load  of  supplies,  which  Sam  had 
been  commissioned  to  get  in  advance,  for  his 
mother's  arrival.  He  was  "  tuck  off  his  feet  en 
tirely/'  when  he  saw  his  employer  step  on  shore, 
and  land  Mrs.  Gilman  and  the  girls,  instead  of 
the  expected  furniture. 

It  was  a  little  earlier  in  the  season  than  when 


OR,  THE    YOUISG    CALIFORNIAN.  211 

Sam  had  arrived  the  year  before,  but  every  thing 
in  the  valley  was  looking  as  lovely  as  a  bright  day 
could  make  it.  Mrs.  Gilman,  full  of  one  thought 
— the  meeting  so  near  at  hand, — scarcely  saw 
the  country ;  but  the  girls  begged  to  have  the 
wagon  stopped  every  acre  of  red,  and  blue,  and 
yellow  flowers  they  came  to.  They  could  hardly 
believe  Mr.  Hadley's  assurance,  that  the  ranch 
was  covered  with  them,  and  they  could  gather  a 
bouquet  as  large  as  a  bushel  basket  in  ten  mi 
nutes,  if  they  chose  to.  The  Queen  of  Sheba 
could  not  have  been  more  astonished  with  the 
magnificence  of  the  Court  of  Solomon,  than 
these  New  Hampshire  girls  with  the  beauty  and 
abundance  of  the  floral  treasures  of  Sonoma 
Valley. 

Sam  was  discovered  in  the  pastoral  occupa 
tion  of  watering  his  flocks  and  herds  ;  that  is  to 
say,  Buck  and  Jerry,  who  had  come  to  show  a 
less  truant  disposition, — and  a  shaggy-looking 
colt,  he  considered  the  handsomest  steed  in  the 
valley.  It  was  in  his  eyes,  for  "  Shanks"  was 
his  own  personal  property,  and  returned  his  af 
fection  with  interest. 

It  was  a  meeting  which  we  cannot  attempt 


212     "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS;" 

to  describe,  and  none  of  the  party  quite  recov 
ered  their  senses  until  the  next  morning,  when 
Mr.  Hadley  rode  over  to  Sonoma  on  business, 
and  left  Sam  to  do  the  honors  of  the  house,  gar 
den,  and  ranch  generally.  In  the  garden  there 
was  not  much  to  be  seen  as  yet,  but  good  inten 
tions  and  a  few  heads  of  lettuce, — but  Sam  had 
laid  out  nice  flower-beds  for  Abby  in  the  front  of 
the  house,  and  stocked  them  with  hare-bells  and 
wild  valley  lilies,  golden  cardinals  and  blue 
larkspurs,— all  kinds  of  roots  and  seeds  that 
had  taken  his  fancy.  The  new  barn  was 
nearly  completed,  Sam  and  Maloney  were  the 
principal  carpenters, — a  trellice  of  very  re 
spectable  lattice  work  relieved  the  square  front 
of  the  house,  and  a  porch  shaded  the  neat-look 
ing  kitchen.  Abby  was  introduced  to  her  spe 
cial  territory,  the  enlarged  chicken  house,  where 
the  children  and  grand-children  of  "  Top-knot" 
and  her  coop-mates  flourished,  and  then  they  all 
went  to  work  to  get  the  front  room  in  order  before 
Mr.  Hadley's  return.  Maloney  had  arrived  with 
the  load  of  furniture  before  breakfast  ;  and  the 
neat  chairs  and  tables  were  soon  in  their  places. 
There  was  a  bureau  for  Mrs.  Gilman's  room,  the 


213 


upper  chambers  had  been  finished  off,  and  Mr. 
Hadley  taken  up  his  quarters  in  one  of  them, 
while  Maloney  and  his  adherents  retired  to  the 
barn  chamber. 

Mr.  Hadley  came  dashing  up  to  the  front 
door  at  night-fall,  and  declared  he  did  not  know 
his  own  house.  The  front  room  was  graced 
with  curtains,  and  a  lounge  Sam  had  helped  the 
girls  to  manufacture.  The  tables  held  enormous 
bouquets,  and  there  was  a  work-basket  still 
standing  on  the  window  seat,  sure  token  of  a 
woman's  presence.  Mrs.  Gilrnan  had  set  the 
tea-table,  from  what  seemed,  to  her  economical 
eyes,  the  extravagance  of  the  store-room,  and  no 
one  could  have  wished  a  more  cheerful  welcome 
home. 

Mrs.  Gilman  sat  thinking  of  the  beauty  and 
abundance  of  all  around  her  that  evening,  and 
the  hearty  kindness,  which  made  her  feel  how 
useful  and  happy  she  should  be  there.  A 
prayer  for  the  pardon  of  her  faithless  doubts 
and  fears,  came  into  her  heart.  She  had  not 
one,  but  two  Thanksgiving  Days,  and  could  join 
most  heartily  in  the  glad  invitation, — 

0  give  thanks  unto  the  Lord,  for  He  is  good, 
and  His  mercy  endureth  for  ever  ! 


214      "ALL'S  NOT  GOLD  THAT  GLITTERS." 

Julia  Chase  can  probably  tell  best,  whether 
our  young  California!!  ever  intends  to  visit  New 
Hampshire  again,  as  she  is  the  only  one  in  Mer 
rill's  Corner  who  is  favored  with  letters  from 
Hartley's  ranch.  Ben  has  not  turned  out  much 
of  a  scholar,  but  makes  an  excellent  farmer, 
and  is  contented  with  overlooking  the  corre 
spondence,  and  sending  messages  in  the  post 
script.  One  thing  is  certain,  it  will  only  be  a 
visit,  if  Sam  goes,  for  he  bids  fair  to  be  one  of 
the  most  respected  and  enterprising  men  in  the 
New  Country. 


THE    END. 


I  U 


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